


Make Me a Believer

by yersifanel



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demigods, M/M, Myths and Legends ahoy!, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:36:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yersifanel/pseuds/yersifanel
Summary: Many years ago, the Gods and Titans battled for the world, today that battle belongs to their children on Earth.It's the end of the 1800's and Emma Cullen enlists the help of seven "Children of Devotions" to save her town from Bogue.(Or the one where The Seven are children of gods and they team up to build a legend in Rose Creek.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! First, thank you for giving me a bit of your time for this story, I hope you enjoy it!  
> Second, let me tell you, this story was heavily inspired by the game "Scion: Hero", but the only thing you need to know is that a "Scion" is a son or daughter of a god/goddess, and that a group or family of gods from a common culture is called a Pantheon.
> 
> ~~Fair warning, this story has not been revised by a beta, so all mistakes are mine, ugh.~~ CelticArche is awesome and helping me out.

_For people like us, my dear, this world is our reward, life itself is as we construct it… but there are others out there, others like you… the sons and daughters of devotions, walking the world in order to construct their own legend, born to be the potential warriors in a war older than civilization. If you ever find one of these children, let it be as your allies…_

Emma's father always talked about myths and legends as nothing but part of a higher truth. He said the world around them was a growing battlefield, but not for the common folk, Emma disagreed with him. She firmly believed that the greatness had to rise from the _common folk_ , just like her aunt Marianne taught her when she was little with tales of how to ordinary people hide magnitude, and that amongst them you could find greatness.

Her father always called Marianne a solid figure of liberty and reason. Marianne would always smile at that, changing to subject to Emma, and calling her the solid rock of order in the family. It wasn't until Emma had grown from a little girl into a woman than she understood her father's words and her aunt's teachings.

The world of mortals was a canvas in the making for humanity to live and prosper, but it also was the battlefield between the gods of old and the even older Titans, yet it was not for them to touch, no… gods and Titans have been at war for so long that they no longer kept count of how many times they lost the battles.

Instead, the structure of this world belongs to their children.

Tales of wars and the magnitude of eternity sounds so big, so terrible, in Emma's eyes, that for a while she thought it was far, far away from her involvement. She was just a woman looking to form a life, but like her Aunt Marianne said, everything great started small…even the bad things.

Something pulled at her the moment Bartholomew Bogue fixed his eyes in her little town. She could see the decay and drought in his eyes, his mind solid in what he wanted. Unlike Emma, he had not diminished the nature of his existence and carried the battle with him, one man with the power to take and take until there was nothing more.

He took Emma's love, shot him dead in the middle of the street.

"Mama," Emma begged into the night, when Mathew was buried and her soul had been crushed, "Mama are you even there?"

The stars didn't change, but Marianne's presence was solid again by her side; solemn and sharing her little girl's pain of losing a loved one.

"Oh my child…"

Emma looked into her eyes and she pulled herself together, "This is not right! this is not… order! He has broken the law, he killed my husband!"

Marianne looked at her niece with understanding, "You mother sent me… with a gift for you."

Emma's mother was stories, an annual visit and understanding. Her father called her "everything right with the world", and Marianne had been grateful to be allowed to raise Emma. Her mother was a figure that couldn't walk the mortal world so easily anymore, even less so than the gods of old.

Still, she had been present in Emma's path, at every turn.

Marianne raised her hands and presented her with medium sized silver Scales – not gold, not like the gold Bogue wanted to steal. But silver grey, like the neutrality of a canvas to be painted.

"I want justice," Emma hissed, taking the Scales, "But justice will not be found here… not with what we have."

"You must seek allies," Marianne advised, "Look in between the ordinary to find magnitude. This might look like the actions of a man driven solely by greed, but there's more to it, more to him, more that cannot be ignored."

Emma accepted the Scales, taking in her hands the birthright her mother had given. Accepting that if she wanted to save Rose Creek, she had to fight with everything she had and more. The scales trembled in her hold, and she knew what she had to do.

Marianne had been a constant presence in her life, but this was not her battle. She could not take Bogue down, this was for Emma and others like her to do. With this in mid, Emma made a decision, volunteering – insisting – in looking for aid help… for allies… with divine birthrights, like her father told her when she was young.

***

_Look up mion-éan! Look, look, look ahead at the roads, the path shimmers mion-éan…_

Faraday had a shitty set of cards in his hand and voices in his ear that were not helping to improve his mildly sour mood. He tilted his head to the side, looking from his cards towards the saloon and, ah… there it was.

The image before his eyes was indeed shimmering, the saloon forgotten and a thousand roads ahead. The most interesting thing was the non-existing road being created by the man walking it, each step creating a path previously unexplored.

_Turn and smile, mion-éan, time to explore!_

"If you said so," Faraday's lips curled into a knowing smile. He had seen others like him before. The half mortal youngsters of the gods of old, wandering the land high and wide, some were doing their parents biding, and some just living, like him.

But of course, you cannot simply live and grow in ignorance when you have such parentage, you could pretend, but not forever. Once upon a time he lived like that, shielded behind his father's paranoia and assaults by his belt every time he tried to ask what was out there, what made him different.

Then, his Mam came for him.

Here, in the saloon, this man before him was one of those who _knew_ what they were. He could see it, from the shimmer in his form to the way he carried himself. He could tell by how the other man was talking low, with all the confidence in the world of someone who not only had knowledge his role but had also made a choice.

The path blurred, and Faraday frowned. Nope, that just won't do.

A few shots cleared the image before his eyes, and he took part of the molding of the road with his gun pointed towards another man, leaving the bounty hunter to finish his moment. As the saloon cleared he encouraged the full mortals to leave his winnings at the table with a smirk and a gesture from his gun.

"I'm gonna kill you, Faraday," hissed one of the mortals.

"You son of a bitch. Deal with you later!" said the other.

Faraday grinned at those threats, wondering what they would become, well, that was not entirely true. A giggled echoed in his head.

_Wicked move, mion-éan._

He could make do in any situation, and this was an interesting one. Oh, he loved to see paths form, it was exiting, so many outcomes, so many turns….

"Dan, you dead?" he called out, knowing there was no going to be an answer. He loved dramatics and it was not for others to be aware of what his eyes could see, "Pity. I had just ordered a drink from him."

The man pushed a glass on liquor in his direction, his eyes calm but curious towards Faraday, "Help yourself."

Shift, shift, shit, another shift and oh… Faraday had to get out of there.

"Money for blood is a peculiar business," he said, but his steps were going to take him back and around. He would just ignore the calling, it wouldn't be the first time.

But…

He collected the money on the table as the sheriff came towards the black man, who was going to be fine, Faraday knew that. Himself though? If the silence in his ears and the blur in his eyes meant something, then he had to move to find out.

***

Sam Chisolm was not a bounty hunter. Maybe being a Warrant Officer was just a fancier and legal way to shoot people, but at least most of the time those people had earned a bullet.

He did not and would not take innocent lives for money, not now, not ever.

Perhaps it was that sense of justice that attracted her towards his presence, it was more than collecting Powder Dan's bounty. He had seen her consulting the silver Scales before approaching him, knowledge in her eyes and a proposition in her lips. Her companion tried to be subtle about it, but she had no time for subtlety, it seems.

"Rose Creek," The young man began, "it's only four days' ride from here. A rich man has overtaken the town. He's killed half a dozen men. He's got the sheriff on his payroll and Blackstone agents in his employ."

"You don't need a bounty Hunter, you need an army."

"Yes," she moved past his reluctance and directly into the real talk, "But more than an army, we need the fragments of devotions, to counter those like Bogue."

There was a faint pain in his chest, "Bartholomew Bogue?"

"You know of him?" she asked, engaging him with each word and her gaze, looking pass the first impression, trying to know if he knew Bogue as well not just by name, but experience.

"Heard the name…"

She offered him a bag with everything they had, as she kindly put it. Sam had been offered large sums of money before, but never everything. There was more to it than the collection of everything from the mortals in an oppressed town, she was also offering him a chance for something more.

"That man murdered my husband," she explained, "killed him dead in the middle of the street."

Silent Judgment and fire, indignation and sadness, all carried in the raw fact that she had lost someone important.

There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't picture it yet. He has a memory of himself playing chess with his mother, as she explained how to open paths, how to make wide Frontiers. Behind his mother is his aunt, holding a little girl with red hair and curious eyes, she reminded him of that little girl.

"So, you seek Revenge," he concluded.

"I seek righteousness, as should we all," She began, and for a moment Sam felt she was looking into his soul, "But I will take revenge."

Oh…. _Oh!_

"Emma," he recognized the woman in the mirage of the child his mother treated like family, knowing that she was meant to be. As their mothers settled in this little land, spreading canvas for a growing pantheon, "Emma Cullen."

She looked him in the eye with no recognition but certain degree of understanding, and it was enough for her to know.

"You are one of them, a fragment of a devotion." It was a statement, her voice firm with her knowledge.

Sam huffed, but extended his hand towards her, " _Scion_ , Miss Cullen… we're called Scions."

***

Walking into the Babington brothers, ready to pull a bullet between his eyes, was not his preference for an ideal outcome. They took his guns, the path shifted. They walked him towards the mine shaft at gunpoint and the path shifted again. Faraday felt a growing headache then, because this had to be the dumbest way to die he had encountered yet.

No, his Mam would be furious and he didn't need that, please and thank you.

A card trick or two and he had Babington brothers in the path _away_ from him, granted, it took a deadly bullet and a magically disappearing ear. He was not too fond of the fact he had to kill one of them, but the fool had touched his guns and those were a family relic.

It was time to go then, Amador City was just not the right place to be and—

"Damn it," he cursed as he walked, the headache almost tumbling him to the ground, the world shimmered around him and the paths crumbled. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. This was unusual, but only because he hadn’t seen it before. This, however, didn't mean it was not important.

_Shift, shift, shift and turn, jump and run, dance mion-éan, dance!_

"Oh, shut up." he demanded, and the voice giggled. "Fine, fine, I'm walking, shush now."

Faraday had every intention of getting his horse back, Wild Jack was a picky creature and it showed. Of course, he was not counting on the non-leprechaun, a lost bet, and being low on founds to buy his horse back.

The voices were full blown laughing at him now, and he resisted the urge to bash his head against the nearest hard surface. It was not an orthodox way to solve a headache, but Faraday was in a sour mood and about to get into another duel. The non-leprechaun had to go and touch his gun, trying to intimidate Faraday into leaving his horse.

"How much for the horse?"

Faraday's head was spinning, and he could see him now, a son of the Spirit of Frontier, riding closer with an offering for him. It wasn’t only about the money, although Faraday will always ask such things first, but there was more to it.

While the son of the Spirit of Frontier bought Joshua's horse from the non-leprechaun, he saw the paths shimmer again, the voices were quiet, and it was a bit unsettling.

_And there you go, plenty of room to dance, mion-éan._

"Who is she?" he demanded, because there was… _something_ … in her as well, something old.

"Joan of Arc," the man dressed in black answered, but she presented herself anyway, Emma Cullen and her associate Teddy Q. That gave him nothing, names were nothing when they belong to unknowns, names were just place holders for the chance of becoming legends.

"Is it difficult?" his question was greeted with a stillness in the paths, and a certainty in the man in black's voice.

"Impossible."

Faraday grinned, the voices giggled and the route was clear in his head and in his eyes. His Mam would be proud… or at least amused.

***

Scratch that, his Mam was going to be rolling on the floor laughing at his stupidity, then would kill him for being careless. But she couldn't blame him too much, he was her son after all. She would probably like Sam Chisolm, as he was a special kind of crazy. Joshua liked the man.

"Bart Bogue." he repeated, "You know he's a mean cuss, yes? With the name of a robber baron that walks the land he takes, takes, and takes, then brings the drought once he's done. Betcha he thinks himself untouchable, damn _Titan spawns_ …"

"More or less," Chisolm nodded, humoring Faraday in part, "that can't continue."

Faraday tilted his head to side, "And her? You know she's—"

"We work for her and that's it." Chisolm cut his words, Faraday raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm just informing you, in case it was not obvious by the Scales and all that." His smile didn't falter. "You on the other hand… you're the son of a _Yankee_ aren't ya?"

"Yes, I was born and raise in the United States." Chisolm smirked at him, Faraday huffed.

"You know what I mean, _The Pantheon_." Faraday made Wild Jack gallop closer to Chisolm. "This land had gods before the white man, but new ones are coming. Young ones but gods nonetheless, the _Yankee_ Pantheon, the ones these people's beliefs are supporting. And you my friend, you are part of it, yes?"

Chisolm pushed his hat up to look at him, smiling. "And you notice all that by just _looking_ at me?"

Faraday rolled his eyes. "I'm very observant, I can see what's not even there!"

"Oh, can you?" Chisolm hummed. "That's going to be useful."

"Hey, hey, tell me Yankee, am I right?" He insisted, curiosity building up in his chest and his mind alike, "So… The Spirit of Exploration, the Goddess of Frontiers?"

Instead of answering him, he gave him instructions, because Chisolm was no fun. "Twenty miles east of here. Volcano Springs. Supply station. You look for a Cajun, name of Robicheaux."

Or perhaps he was fun.

"Goodnight Robicheaux?" he asked with excitement, Chisolm gave him a look. "The Angel of Death! Oh, yes, let's go—"

"Meet me outside of Junction City…"

"Sure, three days, yes, yes." Faraday was only half listening to the rest of Chisolm's words about what Faraday should do in case he's not in their reunion point. Though he didn't appreciate him calling Wild Jack his horse, the beast was Faraday's and that was not going to change.

His mind already looking at the path to Volcano Springs and more importantly, to Goodnight Robicheaux and whatever laid ahead of them. If there was something you could be sure about those Cajuns, it was that they were never boring.

_It's time to dance mion-éan, quick, quick!_

"Yeah, yeah, let's go!"

He ignored Teddy's confused gaze, at this point in his life Faraday cared little to nothing if people looked at him like crazy for talking out loud. Technically he was not talking to himself anyway, and besides, if he was going to help these poor souls, they better get used to him.

***

Solitude was not something he liked, per se, but it was the price he paid at the moment. With a king's bounty over his head and the world changing around him, Vasquez had no other option but to keep moving. It was, perhaps, a blessing that he liked to travel as much as he did.

Currently, he was sharing accommodations with a poor bastard taken by Santa Muerte the moment he had stepped into the cabin. He would've appreciated the gesture if his dear cousin was not making him look even worse; perhaps that's why she did it, her sense of humor had always been weird in Vasquez’s opinion.

He placed his hand over the soil, feeling the world around him. Above him the wind shifted and the clouds moved. His senses sang and warned him someone was coming. Another bounty hunter, perhaps?

" _Puros_ _problemas_ ," he hissed out loud. He was having a bad day and not in the mood to take lives but he would do it. He was not going to let himself be lead to the gallows just because a bunch of white people didn't like his particular brand of balance.

He looked into the sky, locked his index finger and then felt the wind shifting directions once again. Vasquez hid behind the cabin just in time, from the tree line two horses came with their respective riders, a man and a woman. The dagger in his belt tingled and Vasquez placed a hand over it. It was still cold, so no calling for blood. Good news then, he was not going to immediately kill these people.

The man entered the cabin with the woman behind him, and he took the chance. His lasso sent the woman to the ground, his tone urging her to give up the gun she carried. There was fire in her eyes, she was not afraid to use a weapon.

"He was already dead," he felt the need to clarify, because that man's parting was not his doing, that was all Muerte's doing and her wicked idea of a helping hand, "if that's what you're wondering."

"You been sleeping in here?" The man's voice was level, but there was something in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe Vasquez would share space with a corpse or if he felt bad for him in doing so.

Eh… corpses were never a problem. "He doesn't snore, much."

The man was looking for him, by name and with a warrant in his hand. Not a bounty hunter, but a Warrant Officer. Not that made much difference for him, it was still money for his blood and a noose around the neck if he lived enough to see the gallows.

But the man he killed had it coming… Vasquez’s mistake was not the killing, but getting caught afterwards.

This man was not going to kill him, he had something else in mind, it was not about the ridiculously high reward over his head, this man came with a _proposition_. He felt… something in him, something familiar. It was not the same sense of _family_ that he got when Santa Muerte and Atlacoya would visit him, but the sense of familiarity from those like him.

" _Vástago_ ," it was part a statement, but still a hint of question in there, "You… and her…"

The woman glared at him, damn that fire in her eyes, if she had a more literal fire in her, he would be calling the rains right about now. Vasquez had encountered other Scions before, allies and enemies of his father. At the moment, he was confused in between what kind of proposition this man was offering him, the mortal kind or the battle they had inherited.

"You're one of us as well, aren't you?" The man asked him and Vasquez had to smirk at that.

"And what if I am?"

"My name is Sam Chisolm," oh, he was getting names now, "and this is Emma Cullen… we're gathering people like us to face a man who thinks himself king of everything."

Vasquez raised an eyebrow. "You just described half the population, common trait in mortals and immortals alike."

"Bartholomew Bogue." Chisolm clarified, Vasquez had to laugh because this man, oh, this man was crazy.

"That _hijo the puta_ in no man," but he was sure they already knew that, "you feel like going against a mad Titan spawn just like that, for a few mortals you don't even know?"

Emma pulled at the lasso around her legs, hard, and the movement almost made Vasquez fall over, "They are not just mortals, they are good people just trying to live! And they need help!"

People in need, wasn't that the reason he had gotten a bounty over his head in first place? Helping someone in need. If he thought about it, he wouldn't change a thing. He had been doing this for them and for himself, otherwise he was never going to sleep again.

"After our business is concluded, what then?" He asked, because he still knew little about these people. They were good people at heart, perhaps, but he was a good man at heart as well and he had done his share of bad things anyway.

"There'll still be a lot of men after your hide." Chisolm was being honest, an interesting trait in people, Vasquez could respect that.

Still, Chisolm's honesty was not giving him a straight answer, yet. "And that should give me comfort?"

And the bastard smirked. "Should. I won't be one of 'em."

But there was more than that, it was the promise of companionship, he was not blackmailing Vasquez, he was offering something more than the isolation he had been living at for a while now. Would it be so hard, to share paths with others like him, even if they were from a different pantheon than the one that saw him born?

"You're _loco_ , my friend!" He laughed, but put his gun away and let the lasso drop, offering a hand to the redhead on the floor.

Emma accepted his hand with reluctance, but at least there was some form of truce there. He was not going to apologize for taking her to the floor with the lasso, a wanted man had to be careful after all, but his mother taught him manners he was not going to ditch all the way.

He gathered his scarce possessions, certain that they were going to leave this place in a short while. Chisolm was eying the corpse with a blank expression, but Vasquez didn't need to need to read minds to know what he was thinking.

"If you want to bury him," he offered, "there's some tools in the back."

Chisolm hummed, but didn't move. Cullen looked conflicted for a moment then exited the cabin. She disliked the sight of the corpse from the beginning for what Vasquez could tell.

"I thought your people thrived in sacrifice." Chisolm commented, moving his hand to indicated the deceased man by the table.

"Oh, we do _amigo_ ," Vasquez was not going to deny that, it was literally in his veins. "But not all sacrifices are in blood and not all death is a spectacle, well… not for me."

Chisolm walked away from the corpse, still in thought, "I suppose."

"Besides," Vasquez closed his hand in a fist, letting sparks dance around his fingers, in the distance, the clouds rumbled, " _Mi padre_ is more about the water."

Chisolm looked at him in the eye and his lips curled into a smile. Yes, crazy to the core, Vasquez couldn't wait for the ride.

***

Faraday didn't know Goodnight Robicheaux, but he had heard of him, a lot.

It had been in the days following the Battle of Antietam. Faraday had been wandering around, doing his part in the family business when his vision was filled with the chants of a man with a Cajun accent and the eyes of Death itself. It was certainly not the first Scion Faraday had encountered with a trail of _Death_ , but oh boy was this fella fun; perhaps he didn't thrive in his particular family gift, but his daddy? Yeah, Faraday had seen the Elder walking around after his child was done and the man looked proud, his kid was becoming a legend, precisely what Scions were supposed to do.

Faraday was waiting to see more, but then, the war ended and the stories were just words in the wind. He couldn't believe _The Angel of Death_ was gone just like that. Now, watching a duel between a man from the East and a man with too much bravado and not enough skill. He could see Robicheaux, sitting around looking comfortable with the scene, with confidence to spare in knowing his companion was going to win no matter what.

"There you are." Faraday was almost trembling with excitement. Robicheaux was not looking at him, but the feeling was there, the line only those with of gift of _Death_ like himself and Robicheaux could sense.

Robicheaux's companion was faster in shooting his gun, and the mortal could not leave it alone, the fool. Faraday felt a prickle in his throat, he wanted to condemn the mortal but the voices were not joining him. Not for the lack of misfortune in the man's path, but because there was a heavy sense of truth in the air, this particular death was not his to take part of.

Faraday rerouted his attention to the man from the East, Billy Rocks and… there.

"Oh Chisolm, did you know what you were sending me to fetch?" He mumbled as a grin spread on his face. Teddy was looking at him once again unsure if he should answer. Faraday was not speaking to him most of the time really, and Teddy was quickly getting used to it.

Billy accepted the duel, dropped his belt and hat, faced the man named Arcade with nothing but determination and a trick under his sleeve, Faraday was sure of that. He couldn't see it, not right now, but he knew this was not the day Billy Rocks would die, on the contrary, he delivered execution to his opponent with a goddamn hairpin.

Faraday whistled, impressed. Robicheaux might look like stoic and all business right now, collecting the money from his little show, but there was more to that, Faraday was sure.

"Goodnight Robicheaux? Sam Chisolm sent us."

Finally, Robicheaux looked at him in the eye, curiosity on his features. Faraday gave him a toothy smile and Robicheaux chuckled, walking closer to the him as he held the hat with his collect from the day.

"Sam sent you, eh?" Robicheaux asked, blue eyes on Faraday's green. "Interesting."

They started walking to a makeshift saloon. Robicheaux’s acceptance of their presence was clear in the fact he had not tried to scare them away, was tempted to smile, then simply laughed when Faraday described Sam _"Duly sworn warrant officer from Wichita, Kansas and seven other states"_ Chisolm.

"There's this little town being swiped of its peace by a greedy Titan spawn." Teddy might not know what he was talking about, unless Emma had explained, but Faraday had no intention of hiding his words. They were going against something not human and he was going to explain it in the actual terms.

Billy's sharp eyes were on him after that, Faraday couldn't help but wonder where Robicheaux got this one. these lands were a bit far for Amatsukami and the Bureaucracy… perhaps Billy wasn’t related to them, that was an option was well. Some gods liked to move around, and not every god looked like how men painted them, shapeshifting would let you do that.

Look at Goodnight, he had his mother's looks and his father's traits. While Faraday was all his Mam, except for the eyes… well, no, scratch that, he had his mother's eyes too, most of the time.

"They do as their parents bid them." Goodnight requested a barber, and for Billy to get food. Faraday was still waiting for words, he probably looked like a kid waiting candy, hopefully Robicheaux would find this amusing.

"As we do." Faraday pointed out, "This is just the vision, you know? At least my Mam told me this world was for mortals to actually live on, until they're done of course, otherwise we would be out of work, wouldn't we?" His knowing smirk was directed at Robicheaux and the other Scion narrowed his eyes.

"You don't belong to my _père_." He pointed out, but his smirk was clear, he was messing with Faraday.

"No, no, but I'm sure The Baron wouldn't mind inviting my Mam to _the party_." Faraday grinned, "At least to share a few drinks, we Irish have pretty good taste for those."

As Goodnight watched him for a heartbeat in silence, the voices giggled in Faraday's head, and wasn't that encouraging? The Irishman wondered if this was not going well after all, but Goodnight huffed a smile, Faraday could've sworn he saw the Baron behind Robicheaux for an instant.

"I like you, son… hey Billy," Goodnight motioned towards Faraday, "he's one of us."

Billy sat near Goodnight, with a plate of food in his hands and a neutral look towards Faraday and Teddy. He nodded once ,and just like that, the ice was broken.

It was clear that Goodnight was going nowhere without Billy, and that was proven true when Teddy mentioned Sam's calling for Goodnight only. Faraday was more accepting of the other Scion, partly because he was deadly, partly because Faraday just wanted to know more about him This was proving to be an exciting encounter.

It had been years since Faraday encounter sons of devotions like himself, much less in a match against a Titan spawn. His other paths were looking much less exiting, so he was going to keep himself on this one for the moment. 

"Do you mind me asking?" He said, while offering Billy a drink. "Who you belong to?"

As hours past, they relocated to a corner of the saloon, a bit more private so surely Teddy would love that. The conversations had been tame enough, they talked about their past experiences and the information available on Bogue, but now Faraday was a bit drunk and even more curious. He licked his lips nervously when Billy raised an eyebrow, but saw past that once the corner of Billy's mouth twitched, fighting back a smile.

"A kingdom long gone in the eyes of mortals," Billy accepted the drink, "lost in the sea. But my father and the court are not gone, here I am as proof."

Faraday tilted his head to a side then, blinking as he tried to understand the information given, he then blinked a few more times as the idea formed in his head.

_An Atlantean! Befriend this man mion-éan, like Samedi's son, be friends with the truth, the law and it's just strike. This one has the gift you thrive!_

" _Tá áthas orm bualadh leat_ ," Faraday extended his hand, Billy took it as Goodnight walked over to them, watching the exchange with amusement in his eyes.

"Seems like death is indeed a party," Goodnight concluded, a smirk on his lips and smoke dancing in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes and Translations:
> 
>  **Scions** : The children of ancient gods and goddesses, they serve as agents of their parents against the Titans and their offspring, who threaten the very fabric of existence.
> 
> Are the scions demigods? Kinda, they are more mortal than gods but they can be demigods, so the answer is _yes_ but _not yet._ They have the potential to be, but they have to grow in legend and power, they can even become gods one day. For example, Vasquez's "cousin" Santa Muerte, Goddess of sacrifice, was a scion once.
> 
>  **Titan spawns** : children of Titans. Like Scions, they are part mortal, and they can grow in power.
> 
>  **Sam Chisolm** : Scion of Columbia the "Spirit of Exploration" and Goddess of Frontiers, former scion of Athena.  
>  **Joshua Faraday** : Scion of The Morrigan, Celtic Goddess of War, Fate and Death.  
>  **Alejandro Vasquez** : Scion of Tlaloc, Aztec God of Rain and Clouds.  
>  **Goodnight Robicheaux** : Scion of Baron Samedi, Loa God of Death.  
>  **Billy Rocks** : Scion of Versak, Atlantean God of Law, Truth and Death.
> 
>  **Mion-éan** : little bird.  
>  **Puros problemas** : just troubles.  
>  **Vástago** : Scion.  
>  **Hijo de puta** : son of a bitch.  
>  **Loco** : crazy.  
>  **Amigo** : friend.  
>  **Mi padre** : my father.  
>  **Père** : father.  
>  **Tá áthas orm bualadh leat** : I'm glad to meet you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry this took way longer than planned. Many things got in the way and then some, but here we are! 
> 
> Please give a round of applause to CelticArche, who is awesome and helped me with the revisions of the story.

Faraday didn't have a father.

There was a man in his memories, that assumed that title for a little while, but he didn't deserve it. Faraday was too young to understand many things, yet too bright to ignore them, particularly odd things, like himself.

He was the only kid in a house with many rooms and too many visitors that most of the time wouldn't come back. The ladies that lived there dressed in bright clothes and her faces were touched with color, some of them were nice to him, some were not. He was not allowed to complain, he as barely allowed to leave his room, to begin with.

His so-called father was the owner of that house, a man dwelling in the past, with a business to maintain and little time to spare. He was very strict, disciplined, always in control… and he hated Faraday, he would never say it, but Faraday knew it was true.

He didn't understand why, though.

Faraday always tried to please his father, he would obey orders and stay in his room or in the office. He could act real quiet, like he wasn't there, or at least try to. But he wasn't very good at staying silent for a long time, Faraday was too to not ask things, and some of the ladies said he talked too much. But when he was with his father, he would keep quiet, if he was quiet his father wouldn't be angry with him.

Except, he always was.

Faraday went outside, once, without asking. He used the back door and walked the dusty street, until he found other children playing with their parents watching. He came closer, smiled and joined their game, jumping the rope and singing a song about flowers and ashes, he was having fun and he didn't mean to scare anyone, but he couldn't help it.

He saw _it_ before it happened, and he heard it before it went all wrong.

He heard a very loud noise, gunshots and the sound of broken glass that spooked the horses. He saw one of the girls fall to the ground, her pretty face coated with blood as the bullets lost their way around them, her mother ran and cried for her. He also saw the horses stamping towards them, and the kids were not fast enough to avoid them.

When his eyes were back on the present, he was scared for the other kids, so he told them to run, even when there was nothing to run away from, not _yet_. The mother of the girl got angry and didn't listen, until the loud bang was upon them and her pretty daughter fell to the ground, dead.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked, and his father's face was all fury and no words, pain followed and Faraday didn't want to ask anymore.

But he wanted to know.

He kept seeing things before they happened, hearing things that were not there, but he ignored them, because he was not allowed to talk about them. But when he saw the fire in the kitchen, he disobeyed his father and told the lady in charge. She looked at him funny, but she _listened_ , and put the fire away for the day.

One night, he heard a pretty voice, singing softly, he followed the voice across the halls, past the rooms with the ladies and their visitors and towards his father's office, were he sat at night, watching the rifle on the wall and the broken medals in the old box by the fireplace.

"Who is she?" Faraday asked, "The lady with the ravens?"

His father was furious and he raised his fist, Faraday had never been in this much pain before. He cried, he apologized, but he just wanted to know, he just wanted to understand, but his father called him all sort of names and decided he had enough, enough of him, of such burden of a son.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow. His father screamed and gagged, but no pain came to Faraday. when he opened his eyes, three ladies stood before his father's still form, crowing over his little trembling body, to carry him away.

Three women that really were one and the same, Faraday's mother.

Faraday learnt many things from that day onwards, starting with the fact that there was nothing wrong with him, he simply wasn't mortal, not completely anyway. From his mother he inherited his epic talents, and his siblings taught him many things about this world and those beyond, then a little bit of this, and a little bit of that….

Mostly, he enjoyed the ride, because really, that was where the real fun was.

***

It was not strange, but certainly uncommon, to watch Goodnight laughing with such ease around others, as if the weight of his own shadow wasn't bothering him from time to time. It was a welcome sign, and it took the words and jokes of another _kin-of-death_ to do so. Just like it had taken Billy's presence to mitigate the weight of Goodnight's shadow to not suffocated him, many years ago.

 _Kin-of-death_ , that's what Billy called those Scions that, like himself, had some connection to death and it's many forms. It was fascinating, how many there were out there, tied to the same concept but different in their many ways. Billy was a kin to death, but his father's legacy was about law, truth and then death as result of infringing the first two.

The Irishman before them? He was an entirely different thing, just like Goody was kin-of-death yet not like Billy. He knew this, because that was Billy was the best at, knowing things… he wielded the truth with the same ease he wielded his knives.

"You're excited," Billy's voice was level as always, his words aimed to Faraday as the younger Scion drank another gulp of whiskey, "Are you so eager to build your legend?"

Faraday made a face as the whiskey burned his throat and shook his head, mumbling to someone Billy couldn’t see but had no doubt Faraday was listening to.

"I wasn't planning on being here, really," the Irishman pointed out, "Chisolm got my horse, and I have to earn it back, you see," he shrugged, "But I can be glad about it, it was such a boring time until now."

He's lying of course, very few can lie to Billy's face and get away with it, but this lie had no malice behind it, so Billy lets it pass. The man has made Goodnight laugh with his silly magic tricks and casual jokes, and all those had good intentions behind them.

It was interesting.

Truth, the very base of Billy's existence, was not as complicated as some wanted to believe. It could be very tiring, but not complicated. He knew Goodnight had been more himself since the moment they meet him, and it was easy to let himself be drawn towards the other kin-of-death, because Goodnight did one very wise thing from the moment he crossed paths with Billy.

He never lied to him.

Goodnight's truth was raw and sharp in his core, in his words. It had drawn Billy to him as much as his actions did. Equal shares, he had told Faraday and Teddy, because from the moment Billy saw the raw truth in Goodnight, he decided this man was going to be his equal.

With all the good and bad things that came with it, because Billy can see the truth in others, and sometimes that allows him to ignore the truth in himself.

***

Goodnight's father was a very peculiar individual, and it showed in everything he did. It was him who choose to give his son the name _Goodnight_ , because the night he was born had indeed been _good_ , and with The Baron it was all about good things when family was involved. There was more to it, of course, there was always more to his father's reasoning than Goodnight or any of his siblings could tell, but that was for him to keep and for them to unravel.

From a very young age, he has told what he was and raised in that knowledge. The Baron was a family man, you see, and he never neglected his children. Not many Gods did this, but for those who did so it was said that their Scions were more prompt to greatness, to build a legend, which at the end of the day, was a Scion's personal and ultimate goal.

To live, do their parent's binding and in turn, become someone of their own.

Perhaps Goodnight took this a little bit too close to his heart, because he did exactly that, no matter the consequences, and oh boy, there had been consequences.

"Take it easy, son," Goodnight advised a very drunk Faraday. The younger man was clearly used to navigating his way

"Tá!" he said little too happily, perhaps, "…’m fine."

The horse stayed very still for his drunken rider to settle, giving Goody the notion that this was no normal horse, perhaps the animal had been a gift from Faraday's mother to her silly son. If she was the three-for-one Goddess the stories whispered of, Goody wouldn't be surprised if she was a tad too mindful of her children. He knew first handed how a mindful parent acted, as he had seen for most of this life with his own.

"Très bien," he said, unsure, but letting Faraday right ahead of them. He proceeded to mount his own horse, following the Irishman, who was taking the right direction even if he had more alcohol than blood in his body at the moment.

"You actually like him," Billy commented as he rode at his side, his face neutral as always, but his words kind.

"I'm not sure about him, to be honest, but he's… amusing," Goody chuckled, "Death is not usually amusing," Billy raised an eyebrow, "Yes, I know."

For his dear perè, death was a _party_. Goody understood this, he was not so detached of his family's ideals he couldn't see where such conceptions came from. But Goody was not his father, and his own steps were not as easily carried.

For now, he left those thoughts aside in favor of his reunion with Sam Chisolm and the mission his old friend had taken upon his hands to see through. Goodnight didn't say it, but he was answering a friend's call and nothing more. He was not involving himself in another thrill-seeking event in hopes to give his name more legend.

He wanted to see Sam again, and he wanted to make sure the other Scion was fine. When Faraday explained to them about the situation and whom was responsible, Goodnight knew there was more to it than Sam's sense of justice for those in dire need of it.

No, there was history behind Sam's motives, which begs the question, where they looking to the battle ahead or the one behind?

***

Someone was coming, Vasquez was the first to notice and the one who gave Sam and Emma the signal. Three riders approaching heir direction, Sam didn't seem overly concerned, giving a silent indication to Vasquez that he knew these people.

Vasquez felt them more than saw them at first, with the wind and the humidity around them approaching. He was cautious, staying a few paces behind while Sam came forward. The other Scion might know these people, even trust them, but the first thing that assaulted Vasquez’s senses was the weather around them.

There was some hint of decay in the three of them, it was as unsettling as it was intriguing. It reminded him of his cousins with the touch of the spirits, like Santa Muerte. 

One of the newcomers clumsily dismounted his horse, drunk and still drinking for what Vasquez could tell. He even repeated Robicheaux's introduction of Rocks to Sam, this told Vasquez he was looking at the man named Faraday, as Sam had mentioned beforehand.

As if someone had pointed in his direction, Faraday's attention was focused from his whiskey to Vasquez. The man tilted his head to a side, his eyes cloudy yet curious, and he smirked.

"Oh good, we got a Mexican…"

Vasquez snorted, it was usually by his words coated in his distinctive accent that his heritage got noted, yet Faraday had not heard him talk and knew where he came from. Vasquez was mildly amused by the drunken Irishman's correct assumption, not so much by his bad attempt to rile him with whatever game he was playing.

Sam noticed this and interfered before Vasquez was tempted to zap Faraday with lightening, just to see if that would sober him up.

"Ignoring me?" Faraday mumbled around his bottle of whiskey, loud enough for Vasquez to hear, "Mu-sha-sho."

This time Vasquez did laugh, Faraday's drunken and poorly pronounced Spanish was far too amusing to be insulting at this point. The Irishman was muttering to himself in another language in between sentences and gulps from his whiskey, sparking Vasquez's curiosity.

"Who are you talking to, güero?"

Faraday rolled his eyes, as if the question was one he was tired of, "You, them, everybody."

Vasquez, ignoring Sam's cautious glare, came closer to the Irishman once again, close enough for Faraday to swing the half empty whiskey bottle in his direction in a silent offering, Vasquez shook his head "Not now, we got to ride."

"Ugh, can't hold your liquor?" he teased.

"You are drunk enough for all of us, eh güero?" Vasquez sneered, pushing the wind around him just a bit towards Faraday, making the other man move just a bit too close to loosing his balance. 

Faraday managed to hold his ground, and once his feet were firmly on the ground and no breeze threatening to tumble him down, he glared at Vasquez, "Rude, very rude of you, _muchacho_."

"Going to do something about it?" he riled up in response.

Faraday looked him in the eye for a moment, with fire, but that expression slowly melted and the other Scion ended up frowning at Vasquez, his features contorted in a question he had yet to verbalize. Faraday's eyes got glassy and even when he was staring at Vasquez, his attention was clearly not there.

Vasquez took a step forward, unsure of what to do next, this behavior was not amusing anymore, but no less intriguing.

After a moment stretched too long, the other Scion blinked a few times to get rid of the fog around him, shaking his head and forgetting about his drunken state, he stepped forward, almost tripping if not for Vasquez's timely interfering in catching him by the arm.

Faraday gave him a dirty look but didn't shrug him off, Vasquez smirked.

"Sam?" Faraday called for their assumed leader, his voice carrying a ring of warning, "I gotta tell you something."

Robicheaux was closer and his attention shifted to Faraday the moment he called for Sam. The older man shared a look with Rocks, and Vasquez wondered if all those with the touch of death had the annoying habit of speaking in silence.

Faraday leaned on him, a drunken half smile on his face, contrast of the previous glare he got, this one looked so much better in his features.

"We're gonna get some allies, then shoot some bad guys, bang, bang, bang, whoop and bang!" he giggled.

Vasquez eyed him, unsure of what to make of him, "I suppose."

"Tá, tá… bang, bang!"

***

Faraday rode closer to Sam, he was talking about people they were yet to encounter apparently, Vasquez couldn't make out all the words because of the distance, but those were not meant to be a secret, since Sam told them they were looking for a man, a _legend_ , named Jack Horne.

Robicheaux pulled him out of his thoughts counting them up as a peculiar group, calling him a Texican, which didn't sit well with him.

"I'm Mexican, cabrón," he felt the need to clarify, "No such thing as a _Texican_."

Goodnight craned his neck to look at him, a strange smile on his face, "Try telling that to my granddaddy… from my mother's side of course," Ah, the human side of him, for sure. "He died at the Alamo, Mauled by a horde of teeming brown devils"

"The Alamo?" Vasquez knew this story, " My grandfather was one of those devils,

you know. Toluca Battalion," Also from his mother's side, his human side, "Maybe my grandfather killed your grandfather!"

Robicheaux chuckled, but for a moment Vasquez was sure his voice had been double, two laughs in the thought of death, "What a charming thought… I sense we're bonding!"

Vasquez rode closer to him, his eyes briefly travelling to Faraday riding besides Sam. The Irishman was giggling again, answering questions Sam had not asked and talking with someone besides their defacto leader.

"Curious, aren't you?" Goodnight asked, Vasquez grunted but didn't deny the statement, "He's a curious one for sure, most Seers are."

"So, he can see the future?" 

Billy appeared out of what Vasquez could've swore was thin air beside them to answer, "And the past, the present, what is, and what it can be, depending on how strong he is," Billy pointed out, "And if he's son of the Great Queen, I wouldn't be surprised if he is."

"You know this because…?" Vasquez rose an eyebrow and Billy gave him a cold stare, his default stare, really.

"My sister was a Seer," Billy lifted his head, nodding in Faraday's direction, "I've seen something like him before."

Past statement, Vasquez had the feeling that sister Billy mentioned was no longer part of this world. He didn't ask, it was not his place.

Back in his father's lands, there was a saying that those able to see beyond tomorrow were cursed to not live it. Perhaps it wasn't such a regional occurrence, that or that woman's demise had nothing to do with her gifts.

Vasquez choose to focus on the road they were riding instead of indulging in a past he knew next to nothing about. His decision came with a high-pitched giggle from Faraday, who looked at Sam like the man had said something funny. Sam rolled his eyes at the Irishman, but there was something close to a smile on his face, close, but not quite. 

***

Faraday was humming and sometimes singing under his breath, he had been doing this for a while now, precisely since they reached the view of the trading post where they were to find Jack Horne. Instead they encounter two brothers showing them a few belonging that definitely were Horne's, but the man himself was, according to the Pigeon brothers, dead.

Goodnight looked understandably dubious about it, "So we're talking about the same Jack Horne.

 _The_ Jack Horne. The _legend_ Jack Horne?"

"You would know, dontcha?" Faraday, sitting at Goodnight's feet, craned his head to look at the Angel of Death, "Legends knowing legends and all that."

Goodnight gave him a look, "Not now, son."

One of the Pigeon brothers laughed, "Legend? Legend, my ass!"

Both proceeded to talk about how no matter how many people Jack Horne had encountered, he had been no rival for the Pigeon Brothers. Faraday was not looking at them, but at Goodnight while this statement took place, the older Scion tensed, his mind probably unraveling how such defeat could happen.

_Horne is as much as a legend as he is, mion-éan, legends just don't vanish._

"No, they don't," Faraday mumbled, a grin spreading on his lips as he hummed again, low and steady, with a solid rhythm, catching Goodnight's attention as he broke his humming to a low song, " _I'll give you a riddle I'll give a rhyme… but answer it quickly before dinner time!_ "

Sam was questioning the brothers, and they were giving the answers just like Faraday told Sam they would, almost by the letter. The Scion leader eyed Faraday as the younger Scion kept singing, now with Goodnight's and also Vasquez's full attention on him.

" _Death or the goddess, to aid or deceive..._ " Faraday closed his eyes, " _Many weird faces are deep in the trees…_ " he clapped a couple of times, a headache piercing in between his eyes.

Goodnight didn't believe these two had defeated a legend, not permanently anyway, and when they explained how they came to supposedly kill Horne – a bolder over the head and a cliff, very crude – the Cajun was sure, "Snuck up on him, huh?"

Faraday on the other hand, well, he had seen the brothers approach Horne as two men in need of help, only to turn on their aider. He relaxed, singing low, " _I dare you to find me, I dare you to try…_ " he looked at Goodnight, his grin playful but not innocent at all, " _But lad if you_ trick _me—_ "

"Just what the hell are you trying to imply—"

An axe was embedded directly in the man's chest with such force there was no way he had survived, meeting his doom at the hand of the legend he tried to kill. The movement startled almost everyone present, attention shifting to the newcomer and sent the other Pigeon brother walking backwards in fear of his fate coming towards him in the shape of a man.

" _—then yours is to die,_ " Faraday finished softly, as Jack Horne himself moved quickly to finish what he had started.

Goodnight could feel the other legend's wrath, Faraday could tell as Samedi's son laid his eyes on the other Scion, set in his killing, "Oh my lord…"

Just as he told Sam, a few details missing here and there, not many and not important. The timing and the words, the spaces, all of those had been almost perfect, Faraday moved his neck, willing the headache to subside, missing the strange look Vasquez was giving him.

Those two "ungodly creatures" as Horne had called them got what they deserved no doubt. Tricking someone like that was poor taste, but tricking the son of The Witch of the Forest was a death wish, these mortals had no idea what was following them, what sentence they choose the moment that rock hit Horne's head.

"Now, I got a right, by the Lord and by the law, to take back what belongs to me," Horne stated, his voice steady even after what just happened, "Are we in agreement?"

Vasquez lifted his hands in surrender, not having a problem with this, everyone did something similar, Faraday just kept humming, nodding once. Sam was about to make the offering, but he knew, as Faraday told him, that Horne was not going to join them, not yet.

"You're still collecting scalps?" Sam asked, his gaze on Horne all the time.

Faraday saw fit to comment, "The government don't pay a bounty on redskins anymore… You must be out of work."

There was a stretch of silence and the haunted look in Horne's eyes was hard to miss as he directed his answer to Sam, "Now, that's part of another story, ain't it?"

_Legends, legends, and how they truly die, dear child._

"Not dead," Faraday pointed out as the voices hummed, looking at Horne but thinking of Goodnight, "Not yet."

Horne walked towards his horse, while Same explained to him about Bogue, about the group they were putting together. Out of the corner of his eye, Faraday saw Emma checking her scales, a frown on her pretty face.

The legend took his horse and moved away, looking at them over his shoulder with something in his eyes that Faraday couldn't describe, it reminded him of hope.

Faraday waited only a few moments to talk, "I believe that bear was wearing people's clothes."

Sam didn't roll his eyes, but he was close.

***

There was something intriguing about Vasquez, and Faraday found himself drawn to him. At the beginning he just wanted to rile up the Mexican a bit, have some fun, since he had never encountered someone from his pantheon before.

They were crossing Indian territory, very obviously marked by the number of dead around in their above-ground burial place. Vasquez didn't like it and he was vocal about it, even when they should keep their thoughts to themselves until it was safe to share them.

But Faraday was curious.

"It's just their tradition," he argued with no real heat, Vasquez made a face.

"For some, the spirit doesn't rest, unless laid below the ground," he explained, "For others, it's an offering."

"Ah-ha! So, this is about what might be here and not what it is, tá?"

The other Scion gave him a level look, "Offerings can be good… as well as bad, and there's little we know about the Gods in these lands… and their offspring."

Faraday looked around them, in the canyon, and shrugged, "We know they're real, that's something."

The night fell upon them and Faraday couldn't sleep, not with so many whispers and shifts around his vision. He stood and walked away from the camp, not giving into the temptation of tricking Teddy into giving him his whiskey. Sadly, alcohol was not going to help him with this headache, he knew from experience.

When he stopped, there was a coyote watching him in the distance.

"Oh, you son of a bitch," he smirked and waived towards the animal, who remained calm and unmoving, "Gonna take your time, eh?"

"Güero," Faraday did not jump at the calling, he did not, "What are you doing?"

He turned around to look at Vasquez, "Looking for a bush and some privacy, duh."

Vasquez didn't look convinced, but he let him be, shrugging and pointing back to the camp, "Don't take too long."

Faraday huffed, turning his attention back towards the edge of the poorly lighted place, the coyote was gone.

"Of course."

***

You see, the thing about a trickster, in Faraday's experience, is that they have a natural flare for the dramatic, no matter the scale. So, it was no surprise, for him at least, when a Comanche who also happened to be a Scion rode towards their camp. He did tell Sam they were going to get more allies, after all.

Also, Jack Horne caught up with them, because one dramatic early morning entrance wasn't enough, apparently.

There was not much known about the Native American Gods, much less about their Scions. Not because there was not much to tell, but because they kept to themselves. What Faraday knew was because he had seen it, in one way or another.

Red Harvest was his name, and he had as many tricks as he had arrows in his quiver.

The group was expecting an ambush, with justified reason. When there was one Indian, there were more Goody said, and he was right, just not this time.

"You tricky little shit!" Faraday mumbled looking at the coyote, before the pain between his eyes almost made him fall, "Damn..."

Shift, shit, another shift and Faraday felt dizzy, his hands were shaking and he had to let go of the gun in favor to press a hand against his temple. Emma noticed this and moved slowly towards him, placing her hand over Faraday's shoulder.

"Are you—?"

"Not yet," he hissed as the world shifted a thousand times per second and the roads got wider and narrow at the same time. He saw death, he saw life, he saw a mixture of both, blood and bones, feathers and dust, tooth and nail, thunder, thunder, so much unnatural thunder.

He pressed his forehead against the rock, Emma was making soothing noises while Sam spoke with the Comanche, sharing the meet of his hunt, sealing their accord and completing their group of misfit children of devotions.

The world stopped and Faraday saw nothing.

"Well, that can't be good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  Tá: yes.  
> Très bien: fine.  
> Muchacho: young man.  
> Mion-éan: little bird.   
>  **Notes:**  
>  The song Faraday is singing is "Baba Yaga" by Nathaniel Johnstone.
> 
>  **Sam Chisolm** : Scion of Columbia the "Spirit of Exploration" and Goddess of Frontiers, he's also the grand-scion of Athena.  
>  **Joshua Faraday** : Scion of The Morrigan, Celtic Goddess of War, Fate and Death.  
>  **Alejandro Vasquez** : Scion of Tlaloc, Aztec God of Rain and Clouds.  
>  **Goodnight Robicheaux** : Scion of Baron Samedi, Loa God of Death.  
>  **Billy Rocks** : Scion of Versak, Atlantean God of Law, Truth and Death.  
>  **Jack Horne** : Scion of Baba Yaga, The Witch of The Forest.  
>  **Red Harvest** : Scion of Coyote, Native American Trickster God… and grand-scion of Loki ;)


	3. Chapter 3

_You walk another path, one different from the rest of the tribe… there lies your true calling._

Red Harvest had never felt unwelcome amongst his tribe, even knowing he was not like the rest of them. His mother raised him with the help of everyone, united in solidarity for one of them. His father was a story and the reason he was not like everybody else, yet part of them.

At first, he didn't give it much thought. He wasn't the first growing up without his father around, but his father's story was not like others, there was no ending about him dying. His father's story was filled with battle after battle, one too many crossroads, and the greatest trick of all.

His mother would sing every year by the end of the summer, and every year a coyote would come to spend the night with them. When he turned 10, it was clear the coyote was not any coyote and Red Harvest had to laugh at his father's trick, being there when he thought he wasn't.

Red Harvest learned about what he was and what he could do, mastering the art of shifting before his adulthood. His mother wasn't surprised he turned into a coyote of course, she celebrated it, and the following year he ran the hills at night.

He saw the others crossing the valley, a group wary of the territory, but what attracted Red Harvest to them was the spark of familiarity whiting most of the them. These people were seeds of Gods, like himself. 

They were all different, yet united in the same path against a wicked man… only their enemy was no man, Red Harvest was sure. This creature was the seed of something old and powerful, an adversary of the Gods by choice.

He was sure this was what the elders were guiding him to. He could choose to stay with these people, or leave in search of another path. But his interest was caught and his conviction was making roots around him, it was not going to be easy but he wasn't expecting it to be.

"You're thinking too loud," the Seer commented, guiding his horse near Red Harvest, leaning over the black stallion, "Why?"

" _There's much to be done_ ," he didn't bother to say it in English, " _We should go faster._ "

Red Harvest made a sound and his horse moved faster, away from the seer and towards Sam. He ignored the disappointed expression on the seer's face in favor to talk to their voicer about what they were going to do upon reaching Rose Creek.

He would worry about the Irish Seer later.

"Still don't know that language!"

Red Harvest chuckled.

***

"¿Te gusta tentar la paciencia de otros, eh güero?"

Faraday rolled his eyes at Vasquez. "First the Comanche and now you?"

"Eh, not much to say," Vasquez said, as if that was enough for people talking to him when they knew he couldn't understand them.

Faraday glared at the Mexican, there was something he didn't like about him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, with some sort of confidence yet calm Faraday couldn't muster no matter how much he tried. He couldn't tell for sure, but he wanted to annoy Vasquez as much as he was annoying Faraday, he wanted to see him riled up. Vasquez wasn't letting him though, the man just sighed or muttered something in Spanish, looking at him the way his older sister used to when Faraday was misbehaving.

It felt weird, to be looked at like that again, but it also made something warm spread behind his breastbone and he was not above provoking the other man just to feel it again.

It wasn't just that, though. After Red Harvest and Horne joined them, Faraday's voices had been silent and his inner eye blind, it made him twitchy. He wasn't used to being alone, and he was not about to admit he missed the voices in his ears, but… yes, he missed them.

It had only been a couple of days, and it wasn't the first time it happened, he should be patient and just wait for everything to come back to him, it just felt… unnatural.

So, instead of focusing in his in metaphorical blindness, he decided to watch the people around him. His eyes lingered on Vasquez the most, but all of his new companions were fascinating. His curiosity as well as the silent admiration he had for all of them varied. The highest of his list were Goodnight and Horne, because both of them were living proof of what Scions were capable of doing when walking the path to become a legend.

But watching them was also unsettling in a way he was having a hard time putting into words. The signals were there, the lingering behavior of something in them not being the same as it used to be before coming to their status as legends. The voices had hinted it at him many times, legends can die by their own hand, but he was not interested in listen such vague arguments.

"Ey, cuidado," out of nowhere, Vasquez reached for Faraday's vest as they rode, making him pull on wild Jack's reins and get back to the path.

Faraday glowered at the other Scion, but there was little heat behind his gaze. Vasquez raised an eyebrow and muttered something, letting go of Faraday but kept riding close to him.

Chewing his lip in a silent need to keep himself moving, Faraday made wild Jack move closer to Vasquez, watching the other Scion until he turned to look at Faraday in the eye.

"¿Necesitas algo?"

Ignoring the question, Joshua grinned, "Do you have siblings?"

Blinking, Vasquez tilted his head to a side, "Most of us do or used to, our parents rarely have a single Scion, we're conceived for a reason."

"Sometimes that reason is just merely because they were fooling around," Faraday pointed out, "But no, what I mean is close siblings, older, younger, same age, different parent? Your God parent is a mother or a father?"

"So many questions, güero," Vasquez laughed low, but he didn't look irritated, "Father, God of Rain and Clouds," he made a motion to the sky, where clouds had been making their way around them for a while, not enough to cover or indicate rain, just casting some shade.

"And your siblings?"

Vasquez shrugged, "Si, cousins as well."

Faraday clicked his tongue, thinking back to a fond memory "I have sisters," he lowered his voice, his smile was still there, strained, "I had sisters… and one day I may have sisters again."

Vasquez gave him a strange look but Faraday suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore, he ushered wild Jack ahead, forming a single line behind Sam.

The sun was raising and the clouds let the sun wash over them, Rose Creek was close.

***

Faraday had to give it to Sam, the man might be all calm and centered but he definitely was not so secretly a dramatic showoff. That entrance they arranged for Rose Creek was a little bit on the theatrical side, not that he was complaining. The seven of them surrounded the Sherriff and the Blackstone agents, and Faraday wondered if those men were completely human or if Bogue had associated himself with a selected group of Titan Spawns like him.

He moved around, feeling the town and the people, hidden from them as Sam instructed. The Scion of the Spirit of Exploration was talking to the Sherriff already, laying the table and setting the cards. Faraday was calling on those gifts he was given by the blood of his mother, as he knew the others were doing as well. Scions were held at high standards no matter what, and Sam could have chosen a different way to march into town, but Faraday felt this was the correct one for them.

Red Harvest's actions started the violence in the confrontation, as they had planned it. An arrow was all it took for them to punctuate how serious they were. Sam was the one talking, Faraday could almost see the words and their power, more often than not Sam radiated the power his godly heritage gave him. He worked harder, he worked smarter, he stood for what he believed and made the others around him feel the importance of their mission.

Faraday could hear steps over the deck where he was standing, he could see his companions waiting for the other shoe to drop and the rain of bullets that would fallow. The voices were silent, but he could see those marked for the battle, as he had seen many like them before.

"Tell me my dear…" he said softly to himself and those marked in his eyes by his power, the ones chosen by fate to fall in the battlefield. They couldn't see him yet, but soon they will be guided to the final crossroad, "Tell me right now… are you ready to die?"

The moment stretched after Sam ordered his horse to move out of the way. The standoff between them and every single Blackstone agent was a matter of time, anyone could light the candle and burn the place to the ground.

The hand of a deputy twitched, followed by Sam's quick draw and three bullets for each man around. Horne's axe cut the air and the life of another, Vasquez's bullets followed at the same time as Billy's knifes.

For a split of a second, Faraday couldn't see, in his dead list were allies and he couldn't let that happened. He shot above him, to the men in the upper deck, taking both of them down and destroying the whispers of his companions' names amongst the marked ones.

_BEHIND YOU!_

A sharp voice shouted, the memory of his sisters' warnings ringing in his ears with it, but he wasn't quick enough to turn, he barely saw the barrel directly aimed to his back.

Uh-oh…

Sam's eyes were on the man aiming for Faraday and two bullets took him down. Faraday gave a quick glance towards the Yankee, the man's determination was so _loud_ Faraday could have sworn it was drowning the whispers of decay in the immediate future. He was impressed, but frankly he was a little scared as well.

_Death is a party, death is a song, death comes and takes, takes and stays._

"What?" the voices were singing in his ears again, and his vision was cloudy, and then everything he could see was the street and Goodnight's bloody form tumbling down. "No, no, I won't let you."

He jumped the handrail of the deck, his steps in Goodnight's direction. The scion was fighting, but against what, Faraday couldn't tell. Whatever enemy was not the one shooting at him, that one Faraday had to take care of with a bullet, and then one more.

He was back to back with Vasquez, but the man could take care of himself, Faraday was the one that might have a problem because he was not thinking about himself, not when all he could see was the blood of a legend in the street.

He hissed and muttered words in Gaelic, Vasquez pressed himself closer as they moved, a wave of something calm and reassuring washed over Faraday like morning dew, he inhaled deeply and his eyes moved from one Scion to another, trying to located the reason the voices were agitated.

Sam was shooting, Billy was moving with ease, Horne was a deadly force to not be reckon with, Red Harvest dominated the rooftops and Vasquez was a solid, _calm_ presence at his back. His worried eyes finally landed on Goodnight as the voices sing louder and louder, Faraday's eyes when from green to white and he saw blood _everywhere_.

The dirt around the older Scion, the grass, the wood of the structures around him, there was blood running like water and then there was nothing, but Goodnight stood there with his rifle in his hands, his eyes completely black, looking at the horizon, his teeth barren and the hissing of death on him.

_On_ him, not _from_ him.

"Shit," Faraday moved away from Vasquez and the beacon the Aztec Scion was giving him towards the stench of death and gone. The familiarity of it was like coming home for Faraday, towards the umbral and the ravens cawing destiny, him amongst them.

He shot the man behind Goodnight, stepping closer and closer. There was mocking laughter in his ears and words in French, English and who knows what else. One over the other voices hissed in a mismatched chorus, demanding, pleading and giving at the same time. Faraday shot again, shooing the shadows around Goodnight as the man blinked with tired eyes, unfocused and _insecure_.

"What's wrong?" he asked as the leader of the Blackstone rode past them, Goodnight's eyes on him, his rifle clutched in between his hands, but his eyes were cloudy and Faraday could almost see him shake. "Take the shot."

_And the shouts are loud, so loud mion-éan, over and over and over and over and over—_

"Go on, take the shot," Faraday whispered urgently, stepping closer to Goodnight and wishing for him to just take the shot, to prove him wrong, to reassure him that Goodnight's legend was not dying.

_—and blood rains from the sky as death walks the land, the promise of the afterlife, the eternal party that will never cease—_

"…Goodnight!" Faraday's power is extending from his chest to his fingertips, his urgency and fear tangled with anger because no, Goodnight Robicheaux's legend _cannot_ end like this, he won't let it, he won't.  Faraday reaches for Goodnight's back, his eyes white, his touch reaching for Goodnight's core and laid his _geas_ on him right there and then.

One heartbeat, then two and Goodnight snarls at him but doesn't move to shake Faraday's hand away just yet, instead he shoots. It's not a bullet what reaches McCann's back, it doesn't kill him, it does something else and Faraday has no idea what Goodnight has done.

Billy pulls him back by the scruff of his neck, Faraday doesn't fight him. He closes his eyes because he doesn't want to see Billy's, he doesn't want to see his present, not his past and not his future, he doesn't want to see him at all.

"Take it off," he shakes Faraday lightly, Goodnight's ragged breath is close to them, "Faraday, take it off!"

"I can't!" he admits out loud, "I-I-I never tried it on another Scion before!"

"Billy."

Faraday felt Billy letting him go, his attention immediately shifting towards Goodnight. The younger Scion took a deep breath and finally looks at what he's done. Goodnight is pale and there's blood running down his palm, his eyes are completely black and Faraday can see the touch of _Death_ all over him, like an aura.

Samedi's son looks at him and Faraday forces himself to keep eye contact. There's a deep, unsettling anger in Goodnight's stare, but it's gone the moment he blinks and his eyes are back to their normal coloring. He holds his head high, looking at Faraday for a long moment, before nodding and walking away.

Billy doesn't say a word and Faraday doesn't offer any either.

He walks towards Sam like the others do. Faraday's heart was still hammering in his chest and the voices were annoyingly singing in a mixture of English and French, he could feel his power at his fingertips, his _geas_ rooting in Goodnight's very core. He had no idea what command he laid, for he had never done so in another child of a devotion like himself. The voices giggled and whispered, not a reassurance, not a satisfactory answer, but at least they told him something.

_It's not yours to decide anymore mion-éan, it's done, and he will know what it is, and that's enough… for now._

There was a voice he didn't recognize laughing along the others, it made a shiver run down his spine with the image of The Baron came to his inner eye along the smoke and the flames.

He shook his head, focusing on counting how many he got after their firefight to get his thoughts away of those things he didn't understand. When Vasquez ties his number, he shamelessly adds another one to mark a winner, using his fingers for emphasis, seven fingers up. Vasquez gives him a dirty look, mild annoyance finally crawling on his features, but it doesn't last, the man dismisses him with a roll of his eyes.

That's not what Faraday wants, so he steps forward to rile him up.

"Wanna tied it up, eh, _chingado_?"

Instead of following the bait, Vasquez sighs with something close to a smile on his face. The Aztec Scion tilted his head to a side, his eyes on Faraday with something close to fondness in them. Faraday looked away, unsure if the beating of his heart is still due to Goodnight's dead stare or Vasquez's amused one.

He let it go.

Sam found the sheriff hiding under a board walk, his face pressed against the dirt. He ordered the man to come out to strip him of whatever illusion of power he had left with his position in Rose Creek. The man put up very little fight, in his eyes there was fear but Faraday could see clearly that this was not because of them. This man feared Bogue and whatever rain of consequences was going to fall over him for his failure. It would have been amusing if it were not so… disconcerting.

Faraday understood his fear, he knew Bogue was more than stories. The Titan spawn had a nasty habit of taking everything of the places he invaded, not just gold.

_Everyone has an agenda, him, you, all of these people, mion-éan. Your leader here has been chasing one even when his heart is in the right place._

That caught Faraday's attention, so he shifted his eyes towards Sam. The man was giving specific instructions to the Sherriff, a message for Bogue, filled with a gran deal of aggravation. Sam was provoking Bogue into coming to Rose Creek _himself_ , and wasn't that fun?

No. It wasn't, but Faraday was aware that Rose Creek had no time, pretending was not going to give them more chances and even if they had more than a few days, the drought will come, because that's what Bogue did, no matter what… unless they stop him.

"I wonder…" he said absentmindedly, his eyes around the town, "Well this is quite the welcome party."

"Where is everybody?" there was a strange expression in Vasquez face as he asked this, his eyes around and the clouds shifting over them.

"I think we killed them all," he said with a definitive tone, but he knew it wasn't true.

"No…" Goodnight's voice was rough as he spoke, his rifle in his hands and his eyes over the shuttered windows and closed doors, "They are here."

A faint laugh creeped its way in the breeze, so subtle Faraday almost didn't hear it. Goodnight was staring at nothing, yet seeing more than them. His eyes dark over the shadows of Rose Creek, he smiled bitterly, yet understanding.

"They just want to make sure their candle is lit before they blow out the match."

Goodnight looked at Faraday in the eye, shrugging, as if Faraday _should_ know what he was talking about. The older Scion was not wrong, as a child of a death devotion, Faraday had dealt with the fear humans have for facing the odds more often than not, but Goodnight had more experience on him than Faraday, and a different style.

Faraday closed one eye, looking at Goodnight in silence, questioning what he just said yet not talking. Faraday was not lying, they had kill them all, the Blackstone agents, the rogue deputies, those destined to die in the main street of Rose Creek that had become a battle field.

The civilians? Well, Faraday had no jurisdiction over them outside a battlefield. Goodnight though? He clearly did.

"Here she comes," Vasquez's voice pulled him out of his thoughts as Emma rode into town alongside Teddy, her voice coaxing the people of Rose Creek to come out into the open, to show that this town was more than Blackstone agents dead on the streets.

Emma looked flustered, despair simmering to close to the surface to be hidden from her eyes. She was shouting, her deal plain and simple: _these men are here to help us, these people might bring hope where we have lost all._

If only her expression were as firm as her voice. She was solid as a rock, her actions were of someone grieving, she wanted Bogue to pay, she wanted her town safe, but most people in Rose Creek were not supporting her, their fear of Bogue greater than their need to defend their homes.

"It's a shame, really," Billy said, his sharp eyes on each and every one walking into the street to their encounter, talking to Emma and not them. They were strangers with power, the same kind of power the man they feared has.

"What?" Faraday asked, his curiosity raising over the stress of the previous battle.

"These people are too afraid to fight," Billy wasn't looking at him, Faraday assumed he was still angry for the stunt he pulled on Goodnight, "But they have no choice."

"Well, their choices are there, really, just limited and most of them are bad," Faraday pulled a cigar out of his pocked but didn't light it up just yet, "They can give away their land, they can fight or they can die."

He glanced over the people getting closer, he took the sheriff's badge from the dirt and something snapped in his head. A loud cry ringed in his ears, there was the heat of fire against his skin and the stink of smoke in his nostrils. Gun shots, so many gun shots around and darkness, nothing but darkness in his sight, he couldn't _see_.

Someone took him by the arm, shifting so he could support his weight on them. Faraday gripped the fabric of the person's clothes, the air around them had the fain smell of dirt after rain, leaving behind the stank of smoke. Faraday almost smiled, this was Vasquez's particular thing, the aroma Faraday had been associating him with.

His vision was still dark, and that was annoying.

"What's going on in your head, son?" Goodnight asked, Faraday gritted his teeth in the general direction of his voice, ignoring Goodnight's chuckle.

Faraday's fingers twisted in Vasquez’s vest and he stared straight ahead even if he couldn't see, he could hear the present. Emma was talking and so was Sam, with each word another phantom gunshot ran past Faraday's ears, he forced himself to remain still, this was not happening after all, at least not yet.

"Cálmate güero," Vasquez advised softly, "You got this."

Faraday licked his lips, an amused smile on his face, "You sure?"

"Yes."

It was Vasquez's firm tone that got him. He frowned in his general direction and the pleasant smell of wet soil after rain was getting stronger around him, drowning the smoke and decay, the charred wood and flesh. Soon Faraday could picture the grass of the hills near Rose Creek sprinkled with the morning's dew, the sun coloring the clouds orange and blue.

He blinked slowly, his vision adjusting to the here and now, where the people of Rose Creek had their attention on Sam, who was laying the truth about their options before them, the battle yet to come and how hard it was going to be.

Vasquez offered him a lit cigarette, that Faraday took without saying a word. Both were standing close to each other but Vasquez was no longer holding Faraday upright, instead the Irishman was supporting himself against the wood beam of the deck they were standing on.

"Something worth mentioning?" Vasquez didn't look at him as he asked this question.

Faraday exhaled the smoke, part of him already missing the softer, pleasant smell of wet dirt, "Some will fight."

"There's a chance, then."

Faraday closed his eyes, the feel of fire and smoke ethereally lingering faintly on him, "You could say that."

***

They offered them food, and none of them declined, although Red Harvest didn't look happy with the selection. Faraday was too hungry to care about what the coyote wanted to eat, he was sure he would find something suitable to his taste one way or another.

What Faraday wasn't keen to have was the silent stares of the people of Rose Creek. The women helping Emma were staring at them like they were weird creatures behind a cage, spooked with their mere existence.

"And here I thought these people knew what they were dealing with, Bogue doesn't hide it," Faraday bit into the bread, it wasn't half bad. He rolled his eyes at the woman who looked almost pale as she walked away, "Like a damn zoo."

"Fame is a sarcophagus," Goodnight took a shot just after his poetic declaration and, really, Faraday understood what he was saying but he couldn't help but ask.

"You read those in a book, or you just make 'em up as you go?"

Goodnight chuckled, "I'll try to use one-syllable words from now on."

Faraday didn't stop eating, which was kind of a blessing because otherwise he would have made a different expression rather than silly confusion. It wasn't the words or the implication that Faraday wasn't smart what made a metaphorical wound, it was the fact that Goodnight was clearly angry at him.

He had reasons to be, but still. It kind of hurt.

Faraday looked from Goodnight to the rest of the table, then back at Goodnight and played dumb, "What... What's a syllable?"

The other scion sniggered, some of the heaviness in his expression lifted and Faraday maintained his dumb expression. Billy gave him a look, curious, nonjudgmental and almost grateful, he nodded once and Faraday huffed, going back to his food.

Surprisingly as they ate, the lack of conversation was not making things awkward, and once the lingering hunger was chased away they actually started to speak. Nothing substantial, but nonetheless pleasant.

Red Harvest was still looking at the food as it had personally offended him, and Horne was being calm and polite, not saying anything offensive about the Comanche. Faraday mused that, for the horrors told in the stories about Jack Horne, the man was surprisingly peaceful.

Scions made their name a legend with their actions, but they, as individuals, were so much more than that. Faraday was there, sitting with two of the best legends of the west and had no doubt they were as great as he has heard, but also… also they were more than just that, and he was having trouble grasping that concept.

He wanted to ask, he really wanted to… but Goodnight was not pleased with him and neither was Billy, even if he had made things better by making Goodnight laugh a bit, he didn't want to provoke Horne's animosity towards him atop of that.

Faraday ate his food instead, drank the whiskey and ignored the whispers in his ears talking about body counts.

The night didn't bring tranquility, there was a sword hanging over them and Faraday was sure he was not going to get calm anywhere in Rose Creek, but damn if he was not going to seek it. He went to the stables to make sure Wild Jack was well taken care of, what he was not expecting was to find Vasquez petting his horse's nose and even more, Wild Jack _letting_ him do it.

"Did he try to bite you?" he asked, because that's what Wild Jack did most of the time.

Vasquez petted the horse's flank and shook his head no, "You have a beast here, very impressive."

He was right, Wild Jack had been a gift from one of his sisters, blessed by his mother, to keep him company and some guidance. Wild Jack did that in his own weird way, and Faraday liked the beast too much to question him.

"He's your familiar?" Vasquez questioned him, looking at Wild Jack curiously, then his attention sifted to Faraday, "One of my sister has one, chatty thing, kinda annoying."

"Chattty?"

" _Es una guacamaya_ ," Vasquez chuckled at the weird face Faraday made, "A bird. Red, blue and yellow feathers, long tail, white and black beak, nasty bite, also, very noisey."

"A… a macaw?" he wasn't sure, he had only seen the bird in a zoo, once.

"I don't know the word in English, güero," he confessed apologetically, "But that might be it."

Faraday shrugged as he walked towards Vasquez and patted Wild Jack's flank. The horse got closer to him, nosing his face in search for attention.

"Yes," Faraday said while Vasquez was tending to his mare, "My familiar, I mean, he is."

"I imagined, they tend to bit more awake, and rather protective," Vasquez said something in Spanish to his mare and she snorted, pushing her nose into her rider's hand, "She ain't one, she just likes me."

"What's her name?"

" _Lluvia_ ," Vasquez chuckled to himself, shocking his head as he remembered something, "My sister thought she was being funny when she picked it."

"Why?" Faraday tilted his head to a side, "What does it mean?"

Vasquez brushed Lluvia's mane a few times, then let her wander into the stable to eat, "It means rain."

It took him a second, but Faraday couldn't help but laugh at it. It was a nice name, it sounded very good and the mare was a beauty, but the name was picked thinking of Vasquez's heritage, an actual joke from his family.

"Your dad is fine with that?"

"My father doesn't know everything about my life güero, that's the point of leaving a lot to do with me to my mother," Vasquez frowned, "I didn't know what he wanted until I was ten and the sky rumbled with a storm because I was so upset I couldn't help myself."

"Was… was she trying to hide it?" Faraday asked, a faint memory of his father's fury over him echoing in his memory, "That you're a Scion?"

"Eh?" Vasquez looked at him with confusion. "No, she told me everything that she thought I could understand about him all the time."

"You said you didn't know what he wanted until you were ten," Faraday pointed out, "So?"

Vasquez considered the question for a moment. He walked towards Faraday and say on a turned crate near the wall behind them. He took out one of his cigars and chewed on it while Faraday made sure Wild Jack had enough water nearby.

"The Gods from my land don't talk much about sacrifice to their children, when they are young," Vasquez began, "A kid can't fight the battle against the Titans, so you get to live your childhood, it's a gift."

Faraday leaned over the wall, watching the other Scion. He had heard about the pantheon of the _Teotl_ , he knew they thrived in blood and sacrifice, and perhaps it had been his mistake to think everything was about violence with them, no matter the age.

"He was there," Faraday assumed, "With you, and your mother?"

Vasquez made a so-so motion with his hand, "Yes, but he traveled a lot, he always came back and mother was sure about the dates. When I almost flooded the village, he was not supposed to return until another week, but rain is his thing, so of course he showed up to calm down his _escuincle_."

Faraday nodded, his attention focused on the tale. Vasquez chewed on his cigar a few more times before spitting, "He took me with him afterwards, to a few of his travels."

"It was just you then?" Faraday asked with a frown.

Vasquez shook his head no, an amused smile on his lips, "I have siblings, remember? Also, cousins, affectionally and blood related cousins."

"Affectionally?"

The other Scion contemplated him for a moment, debating if he should explain or not. Vasquez grinned after a moment, so whatever he decided it seemed to amuse him.

"There's this thing we do in Mexico," he began, "When a person is very close to your parents, they become your aunt or uncle in name, no blood relation required, so you get cousins even if they are clearly not linked to you by blood," Vasquez explained, " _El Teotl también_ —the pantheon also does this."

"Just how many cousins you have, then?" Faraday sounded equal parts surprised and a bit horrified. His sisters had been a handful, and he had loved them fiercely.

But too many, too close… and you get much, much hurt.

"A lot güero," Vasquez laughed, "Many annoying cousins that like to mess with me, from dawn to dusk and in between."

"Big parties then?" He grinned, "Lots of booze and food?"

Vasquez nodded, "We may be Scions, born to be warriors and all that, but a good party? You don't say no to that."

Faraday took a bottle of whiskey from his pocket and offered it to Vasquez, the other Scion took it without fuzz and proclaimed a cheerful " _¡Salud!_ "

"Cheers," Faraday echoed, but his heart was not in it.

***

Goodnight's eyes were closed, the shadows around him covering his presence like a blanket. In this cocoon of his own making he was safe, he knew nothing could touch him… and yet he felt a thousand eyes on him.

"Goody," Billy called for his, probably not for the first time, "What did he do?"

Ah, that was a good question. Faraday had reached Goodnight when his guard was completely down, too lost in the demons haunting him to push him back. In a different time, it would have been so easy, he was older and stronger than the son of the Irish Goddess, but at that moment…

"I'm not sure," he narrowed his eyes, "I can feel… something compelling inside me, a whisper I'm very aware doesn't belong to my will, but I can't shake it off."

Billy turned a knife in his hand, a hard expression on his face. Alone, in the privacy of the room they have given, Goodnight could see how displeased his dear was with the situation, how much he wanted to bring the younger kin-of-death here and force him to explain himself.

"It's fine, cher," Goodnight assured, "I know what control over others is, and this is not it."

"But that feeling—"

"It's of my own doing," Goodnight explained, "Faraday doesn't know how to hide his heritage, he speaks to his guides out loud, he shakes his magic in his fingertips… and it reacts to what he feels, he extended an imposition over me, and I let him do it… he gave me a… what do they called? Ah, yes… a _geas_."

Billy stood up, walking towards the bed Goodnight was sitting on. He placed both hands on his shoulders, guiding his attention to his face.

"And that's not a binding of control?"

Goodnight shook his head no. His own power allowed him such things as control, what Faraday did was not as simple as that. It wasn't a curse and it wasn't a bind, not really.

"No… he gave me a vow."

"To whom?" Billy's vice carried anger and Goodnight huffed, amused.

He pulled Billy closer to him, resting his forehead on the other man's chest as he closed his eyes, letting the words sink in his own mind before speaking them.

"To myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes and Translations:
> 
> ¿Te gusta tentar la paciencia de otros, eh güero?: You like to try the patience of others, eh güero?  
> Ey, cuidado: Hey, careful  
> ¿Necesitas algo?: do you need something?  
> Cálmate: calm down.  
> Es una guacamaya: it's a macaw.  
> Escuincle: brat.  
> El Teotl también: The Teotl too (Teotl being the idea of Aztec religion, the term doesn't have a direct translation, but stands for the concept of the divine. I'm using here as the name of the pantheon, like "Loa", "Greek" or "Yankee")  
> Salud: Cheers.
> 
> The Team:  
> Sam Chisolm: Scion of Columbia the "Spirit of Exploration" and Goddess of Frontiers, grand-scion of Athena.  
> Joshua Faraday: Scion of The Morrigan, Celtic Goddess of War, Fate and Death.  
> Alejandro Vasquez: Scion of Tlaloc, Aztec God of Rain and Clouds.  
> Goodnight Robicheaux: Scion of Baron Samedi, Loa God of Death.  
> Billy Rocks: Scion of Versak, Atlantean God of Law, Truth and Death.  
> Jack Horne: Scion of Baba Yaga, The Witch of The Forest.  
> Red Harvest: Scion of Coyote, Native American Trickster God… and grand-scion of Loki ;)


	4. Chapter 4

When Alejandro was born, he was part of the third generation to do so in the region once named Atliztac. The village was not called as such since more than twenty years ago, when the evangelic movement spread across Mexico and reached the lands of the Gualeguas Tribe. As done in other parts of the country, people in the region were slowly integrated to a colonization undertaking, mixing their heritage and tradition with a new religion.

Atliztac was renamed Agualeguas by the leader of the evangelic group, in honor of the people who lived there, and changes made its way until they were no longer consider something new. But Alejandro's great grandfather remembered the days before the change. He told those stories to his children, and his children's children, and so on, until the last days of his life. Because of him, Alejandro knew where he came from and why it was important to never forget it.

His great grandfather was the solid reminder that even if progress made its way around them and pulled them forward quicker than they could afford, it was vital to learn from the past and never forget it. His grandfather had carried this motto with him when he left Atliztac, when the call to arms too loud to be ignored. He embraced his history, intertwined with his future, and shared those cherished memories and traditions with his companions of the Toluca Battalion, while back home, his daughter treasured the stories.

Perhaps it was this teaching what lead Alejandro's mother to meet the legend that would sire him to life.

"It was nothing like those songs you heard in the plaza, mijo," his mother told him. "Have you seen those charros coming to town and taking the women away in their horses? Laughing, shameless, and then asking for permission for something they already did? No, no, no, your father didn't try that, he knew better."

Then she would smile, "He sang to me by the riverbank, after the morning rain."

_Te he visto,_  
_Agua clara y rocío de la mañana,_  
_Te he visto,_  
_Y eres tormenta que en mi corazón se alza._

_Noches enteras te he buscado,_  
_Y tu sonrisa mi amor ha capturado._

_¿Serías tú la reina del sereno,_  
_Y mi corazón que no se queda quieto?_  
_¿Aceptarías mi corona y promesas afianzadas,_  
_O en lluvia dejarás ahogar mis lágrimas al llegar la madrugada?_

She would sing from memory, always with a smile, and Alejandro could imagine his parents by the riverbank, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, knowing each other day by day. He knew the song by heart by the time he was four or five years old, as his father would constantly sing it to his mother when he was back from his travels.

Alejandro knew from the very beginning that his father was different from the other men he knew, and therefor that made Alejandro different as well. The people in Agualeguas respected Alejandro's mother, she was more to them than the chosen wife of a deity. She was a _Reina del Sereno_ – one of the Queens of the Night's Mist, mothers of Tlaloc's children.

Since a young age, Alejandro knew what he was. His mother and father took him all the way to the Main Temple in the capital of Tenochtitlan, the same place that would become Mexico City one day. He met his own history there and some of his siblings, older and experienced. He was the youngest one, and he was yet to understand the battle his father carried with him.

"Children are not to be in the battlefield, I do not want it," his father said. "You are a child, and this is not your place, not yet."

So he was kept away from the Main Temple and into a life with the people he was part of, not for being the son of a devotion, but for being mortal. Agualeguas was a safe place, a small town in the north side of Mexico, away from the big cities and the constant progress as well as the integration of foreign traditions that the men that came from across the sea carried with them.

Away, but not completely separated, because you don't learn by covering your eyes.

His mother was always honest, she spoke to him about his heritage, and why it was important to treasure it. She and his grandfather taught him traditions, while his uncles taught him about life as it was today. His father was the bridge between both, because the old and the new were to merge in his eyes and walk forward together, not leaving anything behind.

Being just a just a kid in a small village was safe, but it was not exactly easy. Not for him.

Alejandro had the versatility of water running in his veins, and a brewing storm in his heart. He felt too much, too hard, too often. He could be calm and still one moment and the next he could he could be out of control. He was unduly emotional, and he couldn't help it.

"It's the water in you," his mother would tell him, "Even a tiny rain that can make a flood, and water feels even if we don't notice… but you are not just rain mijo, you are so much more."

Growing up in a small village meant that everyone knew everybody. Alejandro's heritage was an open secret, one the people of Agualeguas protected, not because it was wrong to be the child of a devotion, but because it was dangerous. The Teolt had enemies as any other pantheon, the gods had rivals and children were vulnerable.

In one occasion, a group came to the former Atliztac looking for the _Reina del Sereno_ living there, and her child. They attacked his mother and Alejandro's cry grew into a storm that, while stopped the attackers, it also flooded the village. It wasn't until his father arrived that the rains stopped and the river calmed down.

His father said children had no place in the battlefield… but he also agreed that they had to be ready to walk it if necessary.

***

The clouds were swirling over Rose Creek, as a soft cover for the people who had been working under the sun for too long. There was no grey in those clouds, because Vasquez was in a neutral mood, also he was a bit fascinated by the way Faraday stared into the sky, like the clouds shifting was some kind of show.

"What are you watching, güero?" he asked as they made their way to the, where Sam wanted everybody round up to discuss their options for Rose Creek's defense, Emma and Teddy were going to give them the necessary inside of the town and its people.

"Are you doing that?" Faraday asks pointing to the sky, where the clouds passed, "Rearranging them against the sun?"

Vasquez looked up to the sky, and shrugged, "It's too early to get that much light in your face anyway." He tilted his head and a few clouds swirled around, letting the sun bathe the hills partially, "Better?"

Faraday blinked at him, "I was not complaining, I was just curious… you seem to have a good grasp of your own power."

"You practice, you get better, usually," he justified.

"Yes, but, I mean… you didn't get in trouble for practicing?" he asked, motioning around, "I'm sure somebody would have notice."

Vasquez was missing something, he was sure, but he couldn't tell what just yet, "Sometimes, when I did things like too much rain or lighting, like that time I told you I flooded the village."

"And people didn't get mad at you and your Mam?"

He shrugged, "Not at that specific time, not that I know, but others, well, yes, as much as you can get annoyed at someone's kid for throwing a temper tantrum, I guess."

A rainy temper tantrum in his case, his mother was the first one to get annoyed, actually, because _this is unacceptable Alejandro Tenoch Vasquez De Agua Clara! Stop screaming right now or heaven help me I will make you cry for something really worth it._

Faraday hummed, his eyes still locked in the sky. Vasquez waited for him and then a few questions of his own form into his mind, as well as some conclusions.

"You weren't allowed to practice," it was not a question, but Faraday answered anyway.

The Irishman bit his lower lip and shrugged as it wasn't important, but Vasquez had the feeling it was a sore topic for him, "Not until my Mam came for me, no."

Vasquez wanted to ask him why Faraday wasn't with his mother from the very beginning. In his case it had been easy, his mother was the mortal one in his heritage, but he always assumed that the goddesses, as mothers, had no need to leave their offspring with their sire. He found himself remembering the thing that made him assume such situation, it was back when he met some of the daughters and sons of Xochiquetzal, but now thinking about it, she was known to be very protective of her youth.

Suddenly he felt embarrassed, his assumptions were because of what he had seen and experienced, but it was obvious that not everything was the same. The pantheons themselves were very different and he only knew about his own deeply enough to be certain about their ways, perhaps Faraday's mother had only been fallowing her own tradition… or perhaps not.

"But after that?" he asked instead, because he didn't think Faraday was going to be willing to explain his mother's action to an outsider, "Were you able to practice?"

Faraday grinned, "Yes, very much so, Mam and my sisters taught me, oh, look!"

He jumped to his feet and shook his hands, then his entire body, like he was getting ready to jump or something. He cupped both hands at the side of his mouth and cawed, he did so one, then twice, and in the third time a flock of ravens and crows could be seen flying from the nearby trees towards them. Faraday extended his arm and a raven landed on it, cawing while the crows landed at his feet.

Vasquez watched this for a moment, he had seen something similar but not quiet like this, he certainly couldn't do it. He met Faraday's eyes, his expectant grin and realized the other Scion was waiting for his reaction.

He smiled, "That's a very nice trick, güero."

Faraday's expression was one of pride, he could be bragging about what he could do but settle for the recognition of a fellow Scion. The birds cawed softly around him, staying for the few scraps Faraday had apparently saved for them, which told Vasquez that he was used to summon them not only in need but simple moments like this.

"I'm not sure about the faith of these people," Faraday said out of nowhere, looking at the shifting clouds again. Vasquez stood up to walk closer to him and watch him expectantly. "I have seen it shift so many times it's making me dizzy already."

Vasquez was not entirely familiar with Seers and how their abilities worked. It was said that a few within his own pantheon had the power to see beyond the here and now, but those same whispers said that they were not meant to live the future they saw, as if that was the price of their powers.

"It's because we're here now, güero," Vasquez said confidently, even if he was not so sure, he wanted to be sure so he talked like so, "We're shifting faith so much, you can't see it right now."

Faraday hummed nonchalantly, "You think so?"

"I do."

The other Scion nodded then, shaking his hand to let the raven flay and with it the rest of the flock, "Then I propose we tried to set this river into course, before the shifts get too annoying."

***

Sam was very aware that the odds were… not good for them.

The problem with bringing people with no fighting experience into a battle was the obvious disadvantage in their lack of knowledge. The intentions of the people that remained in Rose Creek were to protect their town, but as the priest said, the heart was willing, but they were no killers.

Multiple shots were fired from the line of men behind the sand bags, the still targets before them remained intact, not a single shot landing even close to the dummies and he could see Goodnight's eye twitch.

"Jesus wept."

Sam resisted the urge to sigh; Faraday expression summarized perfectly well his own thoughts with that simple statement. His eyes moved back to Goodnight, he was shaking his head, trying to figure how it was possible for this many people to miss that many targets.

"Statistically speaking, they should have hit something," Faraday mumbled, giving him a questioning expression.

He gave the younger Scion a leveled look, but whatever the voices in Faraday's head said distracted him so Sam didn't have to answer to his comment. That gave him time to analyze a bit more about the Seer, wondering how it was possible for him to know what _statistics_ were but not a syllable… unless he knew of course.

Ah… things in the group had been tense that night, but after that little comment Goodnight laughed, so it seems Faraday got what he wanted at the expense of his own reputation, interesting.

There were many things at stake in Rose Creek. Their people, of course, but there was so much more than that and Sam had to have the strength to carry all those things and move forward. Bogue's name had sparked his attention, as his history with Emma, but it seemed the merry band of children of devotions he reunited had many things around them that were being woven into their mission.

Goodnight was tense, he could almost feel it, and he almost got up when he noted his own friend was walking with a double shadow at his feet while he paced behind the line of men practicing.

"You gotta _hate_ what you're shooting!" he screamed, his voice echoing, " _Hate it_! Come on!

Get some gravel in your craw! God _damn_ son of bitches…"

The Cajun turned around, agitated. He adjusted his hat and walked from one side to another of the lane, his eyes on the sky, then the floor, but he never crossed his glare with anyone, in fact he kept his eyes closed or blinked too fast. He was not okay, but before Sam could do say something about it, Faraday had loudly declared that the men needed _inspiration_ , and damn if that was not problematic.

Sam had no doubt Goodnight could shoot, and he didn't need to hear Faraday reciting his friend's confirmed kill count or the fact that he was named the _Angel of Dead_ precisely because of how good of a sharpshooter he was. He knew the story, he knew it better than anyone because he was a witness.

But it was not only the name amongst the living, he had earned his _legend name_ , he was in fact one of the few of The Baron's children to do so…

Goodnight's eyes were locked with Faraday, the older Scion chuckled, half a smiled and half a scoff, but he took the rifle and shot, he shot like the weapon was part of his arm, alive and focused directly to his target, until there were no bullets left and the dummy had lost its head.

Faraday caught the rifle when Goodnight tossed it at him, his eyes meeting Sam's as Goodnight left the field. The Cajun and Jack were the only ones with a legend over them, and the weight such thing carried. But Sam was aware something was not right with Goodnight, that weight was crushing him and perhaps he was not going to be able to resist it, but…

"What did you do to him?" Sam asked when Faraday sent all the men home with a witty comment that was part frustration and part anger.

"Provoked Goodnight into shooting a dummy?" he answered, unsure.

Sam gave him an unimpressed look, "The first time, when you provoked him into shooting McCann with… with whatever he shot him."

Faraday bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding Sam's eyes. He remained there, patiently waiting for Faraday to collect his thoughts and say something, he was a very patient man, so he could stay there all day and wait for the younger Scion to answer, he every so slightly pushed a bit of _persuasion_ in his direction and if Faraday or any of his voices noticed, they didn't say a word.

"It's a thing from my people," Faraday finally said, "It's our way… I was taught that Gods and Scions are held to very high standards, and that belief manifest in our power," Faraday held a finger up and made a circular motion around, "It's about our value and that of every living creature… in the eyes of the Gods of my people, we… we're suppose to attempt to _improve_ our own worth, with honor and…" he seemed frustrated, "I don't know what to explain it Sam, I was trying to help, but… I have never used the power of _my_ belief in someone else."

"Your belief?" he frowned.

Faraday sighed, shrugging helplessly, " _L'ange De La Croix_."

Goodnight's _legend_ name, the one he gained for being a Scion creating his own path, forming his lore and tale for everyone to know, one step away from his mortality and one closer to his godly nature.

"Goodnight's legend can't die like this Sam," he mumbled, and it was almost painful to watch how he looked so ready to talk yet he didn't, "It's not fair."

He understood what the younger Scion was saying, but at the end of the day it was up to Goodnight and no one else.

"That's not for you to decide, son."

Faraday nodded and walked away, mumbling something about helping Jack with some preparations. It was not until he was gone that Sam notice he had never actually answered his question.

***

One of Sam's traits as a Scion was that he _always_ knew were he was. Distances, paths, entry and exit points, Sam was able to known them perfectly in a very short time, and so while he watched Rose Creek at the top of the hill with the other Scions besides him, he was absorbing the structure of the place and all around it with each step.

It wasn't hard, Rose Creek was small.

When he declared they only had seven days to prepare themselves, he was completely certain. He knew with no doubt where Bogue was and how long it would take him to get back, ready for a battle. Knowing these things was usually a great part of why his travels were so certain, his steps direct, and why he was able to find the right people at the right moment… but it also was a little tiresome, sometimes, for reasons that weighed in his spirit.

"So, this is our trap…"

Sam noted that Goodnight looked tired, Billy's expression was calculating, while Faraday looked unsure of the image before him, his eyes too narrow and his smile missing. This was not particularly encouraging.

While Sam sometimes got tired of knowing _exactly_ how far or close things and people were – when the situation was not especially good, mostly – he knew Scions with a parentage related to Death had other kind of weight over them.

He learnt while watching Goodnight. In the past, he saw his friend walk over the paths of death created by his own sentence to mortals, and while he couldn't completely understand, Sam gained an idea of the weight such actions pinned on his friend as consequence of building his legend. There was a price for everything, after all.

He had no idea what Goodnight could see in Rose Creek, or the judgement Billy was casting, nor what kind of whispers Faraday was hearing, but he understood it wasn't something good.

"It might work," Vasquez reasoned, looking pensive yet positive, "Pin 'em in there."

Goodnight didn't look convinced, but was not entirely opposite to the idea that their trap could work, while Billy was talking about surprises, and he was absolutely right, they will need many surprises to even phantom the chance of making this trap of theirs work.

"It's a box of death," Goodnight's comment felt like a sentence, once Jack was having none of it. He immediately quoted the Christian Bible, talking about melting the elements with fervent heat, and the destruction of two cities that the tell said were drowned in sin.

Faraday gave him a strange look, but smiled.

Vasquez decided to ask Faraday what he thought, Sam was not entirely sure if this was because Faraday was a Seer and could see the potential future, or because they had been spending more and more time with each other.

The Seer in question clicked his tongue and to Sam's amusement answered with a story about a man falling from a five-story building, saying that people heard him say _"So far, so good"_ as he passed each floor. The fictional tale made them chuckle and it was enough to break the somber mood around them, at least.

Vasquez sighed and Sam was not sure if was in fondness or exasperation.

"I make good on my horse yet, Sam?"

Sam turned towards him, "So far, so good."

Faraday chuckled and then looked into Rose Creek. His eyes went blank; Sam quickly moved to press his hand against the younger Scion's chest feeling his racing heart against his palm.

"Oh man, that's loud, very loud…" Faraday said, blinking his unseeing eyes and looking slightly pale. "There's one near the creek, he's too close to the unmarked ones… then another, between the wagons, then outside the… the office? And the tents… and, Sam they are _so_ tired, too tired to even be afraid, just… so… tired… they are breathing but they are dead inside, they are captive, but the cage has no have bars… so damn tired…"

Vasquez moved around them and firmly but gently took Faraday's arm to kept him on the horse. The other Scion lowered his head and muttered in what Sam suspected was his mother tongue, but didn't push them away.

"The mine," Sam concluded, nodding to himself. "Let's go get some ammo."

And with it, hopefully give rest to those poor souls Faraday was seeing.

***

As Faraday said, there men looking over the Bogue's operation in the mine were not many, but Bogue had planted his seed of despair so deeply that even his followers seemed to have the power to keep the miners under their iron claw, even when they were higher in numbers.

Goodnight adjusted the hold on his rifle, his eyes looking into the distance far more than any mortal could. One shot echoed in the valley as the body of the man riling up the miners hit the ground, another shot followed shortly after, and with it another man. Goodnight continued this even with the damn owl hooting in his ear.

If Faraday could ignore the voices talking to him nonstop, them Goodnight could ignore the damn owl that followed him like a sentence of his own actions.

His eyes looked in the last of Bogue's men and slowly, very slowly pulled the trigger. The bullet met its target and the life of that man was gone. He felt his shadow shiver at his feet, eager to run, to extend, to devour…

He closed his eyes, tapping his boot against the sand, commanding his shadow to remain there and go back to sleep, go back to the dark and the silence, along the owl flying in the distance.

Billy was at his side, his palm pressed firmly in the small of Goodnight's back, making him chuckled. Billy always knew how he felt, Goodnight didn't even have to say something for him to know, it was as calming as it was unnerving, sometimes.

He never lied to Billy anyway, not because it was practically impossible to do so, but because he had no desire to do so. If there was someone who could understand at some degree the mess that was Goodnight's head, that was Billy Rocks.

"That should do it," Goodnight tilted his head towards the other side of the creek, resting his rifle against his shoulder. He looked at Sam expectantly and the other Scion nodded.

Once the others were ahead towards their horses, Billy leaned closer, "Are you okay?"

Goodnight scoffed, looking ahead, "I don't know."

There was no use in telling Billy he was fine, because that was a lie, but there was also no point in saying he was not fine, because in all honestly, Goodnight had no idea what state he was in. He lifted his gaze and there, perched atop of a small tree, was the damn owl again, looking at him with its yellow eyes and its condemnatory expression.

Since a few days ago, the damn bird had made its presence know, but contrary to other occasion, it was silent. It would hoot once or twice, but other than that it just stayed somewhere near, yet not too close.

"The owl is there," he told Billy as they walked towards the horses. Billy just nodded, there was nothing he could do for him about the owl, that was Goodnight's demon and his alone.

Still, the damn thing had been pleasantly silent, it was easier to stand, and with his stubborn will to not let himself be chased away by voices, even more so.

He looked at Faraday, narrowing his eyes. The kid was always talking out loud to his guides, he even seemed to _welcome_ them, Goodnight had no idea how he could be so nonchalant about it.

Something warm spread from his back to his chest and he could feel it again, the calling of whatever Faraday laid on him a few days ago. It had been getting warmer, constant but not uncomfortable. A promise to himself, he told Billy the thing was, and as always, that was the truth.

However, the truth was… not easy to carry.

Goodnight decided to ignore it for the moment. He ignored the warm he felt between his spine, he ignored Billy's gaze on him, and he ignored the damn owl hooting as it followed him form a distance.

He was not going to be able to ignore everything for much longer, of course, but now… well, now he could have this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the lyrics: 
> 
> I've see you,  
> Clear water and morning dew,  
> I've see you,  
> And in my heart, you're a rising storm.
> 
> Whole nights I've search for you,  
> And your smile, my love has captured.
> 
> Would you be the Queen of the night's mist,  
> And my heart that cannot stay still?  
> Would you accept my crown and entrenched promises,  
> Or in rain will you drown my tears when the morning comes?


	5. Chapter 5

"Josh? …Oh Josh! Josh, where are you?"

There was a touch of laughter in the calling, flowing in the air with an imaginary melody that Joshua loved to hear over and over again. Hiding behind a bush with blooming small white flowers, he closed his eyes while his sisters called for him in their little game.

A magpie landed before him, it was black, white and had shades of blue and green. The beautiful bird stared at him for a moment, then cawed _loudly_. It startled him, and it took a moment for Joshua to realize that was the bird gave the equivalent of a laugh.

"There you are!"

Arlanna emerged from behind the bush he had been using to hide and hugged him, burring her face in his hair and tickling his sides, making him giggle and squirm like a ferret to no avail. His sister's arms were now firmly around him, pulling his smaller body towards her lap. She laughed and shook her head wildly, making her auburn curls bounce all over her shoulders.

As Joshua tried to get away from Arlanna's tickling fingers while the magpie shivered and morphed, its small form replaced by a young woman with dark hair and mischievous eyes. She sat nonchalantly on the floor, combing her hair with her fingers while Joshua finally jumped off Arlanna's arms.

"Fey, that's cheating!" he complained to his sister, who shrugged in return.

"It's really not, you got distracted baby brother, so that's fair game," she declared, then got to her knees and took him from Arlanna's reach towards her, kissing his forehead with a loud smack, "Focus next time!"

Joshua's face morphed into a pout that did little to help his case. His sisters ruffled his hair in all directions against his protests, and he ended up laughing again when Fey decided to mimic Arlanna's tickling move.

Not far from them, the eldest of his sisters, Danna, watched them with amusement dancing in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips, the wind moving her sandy hair lightly. At her side, impatiently braiding her own claret hair, Johanna rolled her eyes, fixing the braid into a bun on the top of her head.

"It's too early to be this loud," Johanna complained, her tone mildly annoyed but with no more weight to it than that, "I thought they were going to take Joshua to the lake?"

A small hand pulled on Johanna's dress, moving her attention from Danna to Joshua, who was now looking at her expectantly.

"I believe," Danna started, "That we agreed _you_ were going to take him there and I will follow, but alas, plans changed."

"Fey and Arlanna were teaching me to mind my surroundings," Joshua commented.

"With hide and seek?" Johanna asked, her lips curling into a smile.

As if summoned, Fey caught up with them, Arlanna following behind at a slower pace, stopping next to Joshua to brush grass from his clothes and hair against her little brother's protests.

"It far more effective to learn by having fun!" Fey justified, "And Josh was bored, you know that's never a good thing."

The four of them hummed in agreement, while Joshua had gotten into his haunches to play with the trailing ends of Johanna's dress, distracting himself from his sisters' conversation already.

Joshua twisted the fabric around his fingers, taking it with both hands and smiling to himself, amused by the look and feel of his sister's dress as if was the most fascinating thing he had seen up to date. It wasn't. It was just a dress, a simple one, but Joshua had a particular way to direct his attention to everything that in his eyes made things fascinating in one way of another.

Johanna sighed softly, brushing her brother's hands off her dress and hunching to take him into his arms, resting most of his weight on her hip. Joshua allowed this out of habit, all of his sisters were stronger than they look and most of them developed a habit of scooping him off the ground more often than not.

He felt safe in their arms, safer than any other place no matter what.

"I want to be a bird, like Fey," Joshua said, digging his fingers in the upper layers of Johanna's dress, "Like you."

Johanna kissed his brow gently, "You just want to fly, don't you?"

Joshua smiled, utterly unmoved by being called out, "Who doesn't want to fly?"

His sisters laughed, knowing he had a fair point. Danna reached to ruffle his hair, "Then fly you will… Mion-éan."

***

The aftermath of the mine's taking was silent, and as they rode across the creek towards the people waiting for them to explain themselves, they silent remained, much to Faraday's chagrin.

The miners were overworked people who may or may not be there willingly. Faraday knew that just because a cage doesn't have bars it doesn't make it any less of a cage. They weren't scare when Goodnight took Bogue's men down, nor when the seven rode pass the creek and towards them. They were exhausted, as Faraday saw in his vision, too tired to fight, too tired to fear. The only other thing in the surface that Faraday could tell, besides the physical and emotional fatigue, was a sense of suspicion.

_Black and crimson ink poured over the letters, spreader over parchment and running, running, running, soaking and crumbling—_

"Until there's no more letters," mumbled Faraday, complementing his own voices.

He held the bottled of whiskey he had with him, found on one of the Blackstone agents they killed. His eyes made contact with one of the miners and he tossed the whiskey towards him, the man caught with a surprised look but otherwise grateful.

If someone needed a drink, it was those miners.

Sam was the one more fluent with words of them all, being the unspoken leader of their group, so it was him who broke the silent choking them like a rope. He declared the miners free to go, and also gave them the choice to stay and fight if they wanted to, with no obligation for the latter.

_Things go boom! Boom! Boom! Smoke and gunpowder, dancing in eerie silence._

Faraday frowned at the giggles the voices in his ears kept on giving him, singing with little to no sense as well as no shame. He wasn't a stranger to those song, having heard them most of his life, but every once in a while, the cryptic lyrics would get to him, he couldn't help it.

Licking his lips, Faraday steadily got down from his horse to search the mine's available supplies, along with the others. They were helping the miners, sure, but this place also held some resources they needed to fight.

The miners talked to Sam, mostly. Faraday was not particularly keen to know the details of Bogue's operation in the mine, he told himself it was because of his dislike for mines in general and not because he knew what the miners were feeling.

_Denial, denial, little bird, it doesn't look good on you._

"I don't know," he argued, looking around to nothing in particular. "I saw, but I don't know."

"What are you talking about, güero?"

Faraday blinked, turning his attention to Vasquez, who was looking at him with a little tilt of his head and a curious expression. Faraday shook his head, "Nothing important— is that where they keep the good stuff?"

Before Vasquez could ask a question Faraday was not in the mood to answer, he moved quickly to where the others gathered. The miners talked to Sam about this particular store place, and Faraday peered at the door while standing behind Billy. The other Scion kicked the door open and rested his hands over his hips once he was done, in a perhaps more dramatic than necessary moment that made Goodnight chuckle.

"This will help," Billy declared as a matter of fact, while Faraday was looking a bit too excited about boxes of dynamite.

"I always wanted to blow something up—"

He said this with a smirk, making the others laugh, enough to distract them from his sudden stillness when all he could see was smoke and all he could heard was a ringing in his ears. He took a step backwards and disguised his cough with a chuckle. The smoke was not real – not yet anyway – he could breathe just fine, but ne needed to cough to get rid of the feeling of choking embedded in his chest and throat.

Someone patted him on the back and he coughed without pretense this time, the pat was firm, hard, but with enough care to let him know it was a helping hand. Faraday meet Vasquez eyes once he regained his breathe.

"¿Todo bien?"

He didn't know what that meant, but he nodded anyway, and telling by way Vasquez's concern eased, Faraday supposed that was the right call.

As they loaded the dynamite in the wagon, the miners made their choice. Some decided to leave, passing them quietly with a nod as thanks and goodbye, but others stayed. Faraday was not surprised to see some of them pick whatever material possession they had along with their will to fight and come to them, but he was surprised to see the numbers.

Maybe their spirits needed more than rest to heal, maybe they needed to fight to actually feel free. Faraday frowned, wondering if this was a willing spirit or something left by whatever Bogue had done to these men.

"Next season will be good," Jack's voice pulled Faraday out of his somber thoughts. The legend was looking at the hills with a calm Faraday could not even muster.

"Next season?"

Jack nodded towards the creek, "With the mine closing, the soil will heal, there's life here still," the tracker couched and dug his fingers on the ground, standing up with a handful of dust, "Here, and far head in Rose Creek, there's life beneath the ground, there's water running, and people still living… You have heard what Bogue does, don't you?"

Faraday stood very still, and nodded.

"It's not just stories, those people, those places… gone, there might be rocks and bones but nothing more, nothing grows, nothing flows… people are afraid of Bogue's drought, and everything that comes with it, but these people? They still have some hope the drought won't come."

The voices hissed and spoke in song, a mixture of cries and joy, mocking tones that made Faraday's head hurt, and with it came the flashes of decay. Dying trees, dry rivers and death, so much death all around, beneath and above the ground, nothing but death in a land once alive.

He lowered his gaze, focusing on the ground, the sound of the water running nearby and the people shuffling and loading boxes outside the mine. Faraday pushed back his voices, the visions and the overwhelming need to shout.

Craning his neck, as if wanting it to crack, he shifted his gaze back towards Jack, "If the drought comes, we're done."

Jack nodded, "Then we should make sure to push it back, don't you think?"

He chuckled, "Might as well."

***

Time was not something they had to spare. They not only had to prepare the few people in Rose Creek that could fight, but also get some kind of advantage for them, make the town their battleground, and in Jack's mind, a graveyard as well.

Horne kneeled at the distance set for the trenches and tapped the ground, once, twice, then placed his palm over the soil, sending an echo towards the ground as he had seen his mother do, back in the day.

He could feel the earth and everything in it around Rose Creek. Far behind them was the mine and a whole lot of gold buried and incrusted in the rock, the metal that caused Bogue's obsession. He let his senses away from that, the gold was not important, not for him anyway, he was searching for softer ground and to give the earth a _push_.

There.

The soil gave under his hands and upon his power – his prayer in a language long dead and only known by those of this mother's heritage – spread far and wide in the world, so apart from each other that rarely could be found together, yet always strong.

Together, Scions and mortals prepared Rose Creek. From digging the trenches to preparing barricades, tapping the windows and relocating essentials for the battle. These elements were done with the hope of preparation, and Horne included that kind of inspiration in his prayer.

Just because those around him were not able to understand the words, didn't stop their meaning from transcend to their hearts, after all his words had a touch of magic.

Once the sun was down and they parted for the night, Horne chose to stay by the camp made just in the skirts of town, near the lake. It was peaceful, and it gave him a sense of calm, something he was always searching for.

He was aware of the sun rising, but not feeling the urge to get up just yet. The ground pulsed with the many steps of those over the soil, one particular in his direction. He had his gun ready when someone tapped his boot and ended up aiming it to a startled Faraday, who laughed it off, showing him the fish he had caught for him.

"I got breakfast for you," he repeated, showing the fish, and there was something familiar in his smile, it reminded him of the past.

"Thank you," he laughed, throwing gunpower to revive the fire while Faraday lay besides him, giving him not only the fish but his company.

It had been so long since he felt this included. His life had been already long, even fore a Scion, he was perhaps the oldest of that group, if not for Goodnight. The years of a Scion get stretched once the power of a legend falls over your story, feeding your life as well as your power.

But Horne was tired, and he had been walking aimlessly for a long while now. He wanted justice for Rose Creek, but he also wanted to feel something, anything, again.

Perhaps his thoughts and desires were reflecting on faith, because Faraday chose to ask him about the family he no longer had, there were no mention of them in the books the younger Scion read, and of course thy wouldn't be there, they were after his time gaining the status of legend, dear to him but to history.

"I'm very sorry to heard that," Faraday said in sympathy for Jack's loss, even if it was a long time ago.

Horne felt grateful then, filled with the need to pray, to the old voices, those who spoke his language, and Faraday looked at him funny but still sat straight and took off his hat to listen to Horne's pray. He might not be able to understand the words, but the meaning was there for him.

"I used to say this prayer for them," he remembered, "They loved it, and with time, understood every word and loved even more…"

"Nine."

"Pardon me?" Jack asked, unable to understand the significance of such number, although he was sure there was one.

"We were nine," Faraday repeated, his eyes on the grass he was picking with his fingers and pointed to himself with the other hand. "The children of The Morrigan, my family," he explained. "I was the youngest, and the only male."

Jack observed him for a few heartbeats, then hummed, some understanding coming to his mind, yet he wanted to be optimistic when he asked "You got a younger sibling?"

Faraday shook his head no, smiling with glassy eyes as he continued, "It's only me, now."

There was something strange in that smile, it was obvious, yet he couldn't put a name on such grievance aside from the one he was familiar with, the weight of lost. Faraday gazed up and behind them, towards Rose Creek and the people in it, his eyes curious.

"There's many things I don't understand about you, son," Jack said evenly, almost calm, "But I get that you want to help."

The younger Scion grinned, "What if I only want my horse back? There's that."

"You cannot buy familiars from their Scions, Sam knows that," Jack poked the fire as he spoke, amused, "And sometimes small pebbles and a little push are enough to set an avalanche in motion."

Faraday clicked his tongue, picking more grass with his fingers while Jack prepared the fire he was going to use to cook the fish. The younger Scion kept quiet for a while, but Jack didn't seem to mind the silence or how it was obvious that Faraday wanted to say something yet the words were not coming out.

Curios, considering how much he talked.

"Did you—" he made a choking sounds that alerted Jack, now his attention fully into the shivering man, "When your family… when you lost them… did you… the ones who took them away—"

"I raged," Jack explained as there was no need for Faraday to finish the question, he understood what he was being asked, "And I took blood for their loss… I miss them every day, but the paid toll didn't bring them back, or the peace I needed."

Faraday chuckled, watching him with a bitter smile, "You can't expect me to believe it didn't help at all."

"No," he reasoned, "I can't tell you that."

"But it wasn't enough," Faraday sighed, closing his eyes, "Not even close, was it?"

Jack reached for him again, holding the back of his neck with a firm hold. It was meant to be shooting, and for the way the younger Scion relaxed, at least his intention was transmitted. Faraday didn't move for a long moment, he just breathe and Jack let him.

But he had to ask, the intrigue eating him away as much as the thought that there was way more in stake with them in Rose Creek than the people they were helping.

"Bogue?"

Faraday straightened his back, placing his hand over Jack's on the back of his neck, but not moving it away. He didn't look at him in the eye, instead his eyes were focused on the lake near them.

"We were supposed to be the grace of Faith, War and Death… we fought tempests, tamed fires… but we lost against the drought."

Lifting his eyes to the sky, Faraday let his hand fall and didn't elaborated. Jack added more pressure to the back of his neck in sympathy, knowing about loss himself.

"I'm sorry, son—"

"Don't tell Sam!" he added quickly, almost in panic, "Please."

Jack frowned, his thoughts had not moved towards that idea until Faraday mentioned, and then the son of the Witch of the Forest remembered he was talking with a Seer. Even if Jack had not fully formed an idea yet, Faraday, being so close, was able to see that possibility in the many ahead.

"I don't know if keeping such secret is wise," Jack explained, retrieving his hand as Faraday shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"It's… it's not gonna be a problem, I ain't searching for revenge," he mumbled, and such thing was hard to believe, "Not… not by my hand anyway, I just want it done."

Jack gave him an uncertain look and let the silent stretch.

"So much for just wanting your horse back, eh?"

At this, Faraday gave him an incredulous look and then broke down laughing, Jack joined him shortly after. Both letting the tension around them disappear with each breathe. Jack ruffled Faraday's hair, and the younger Scion let him.

"Oh, this is gonna be awful," Faraday said, rubbing his fingers against his eyes, but smiling. Jack hummed, not adding anything else, and instead moved to feed the fire.

***

_There she is, her aim set, her eyes on fire, and the bullet hits and hits and hits and hits, but her target won't be still, oh no, he will move and bring decay, over and over and over and over—_

"Quit it, I get it," Joshua hissed, making the voices giggle.

Emma was set in fighting, but Joshua was certain she had not grasped what could happen. How could she? Emma wanted justice, yet here she was, settling for revenge. That was not going to work, not for her nature, not if Joshua's suspicions about her were truth.

_No lies mion-éan, only ignorance pretending to be bliss._

"That's not how the saying goes," he argued. "It can be bliss!"

_Would you rather be ignorant of who you are?_

"I— this is not about me!"

Several giggles faded as he walker closer to where Emma was shooting a log by the water. He thought back to when he was living with that man, how he wanted so badly to know what was wrong with him only to find out, much later, that there was nothing wrong, he just was with the wrong people.

He stood close to Emma, knowing she was set in fighting Bogue, most likely would want to be the one to kill him if the chance presented itself, although Sam was planning to get Goodnight to shot the Titan spawn from a distance.

_The son of Columbia just wants things to be done as much as any other looking for justice, but is being cautious about this revenge._

"Bogue hurt more people here than he is aware," he said out loud, "He doesn't care."

Emma was not startled by his presence, but her eyes reflected a confusion regarding Faraday's words, not knowing he was not talking to her, not exactly.

"Of course, he doesn't care," Emma answered anyway. "If he did he wouldn't have done any of this."

Faraday blinked, "He walks his heritage path as much as we do—"

Emma shot the log again, drowning Faraday's words, "My father said death is not a heritage."

Something burned inside him and he moved, taking his gun and shooting the same log Emma was aimed at multiples times, smiling to himself when Emma looked at him a little warry.

"Mine would disagree," he chuckled, "The fool… besides, you have three with death as heritage in your little army Miss Cullen, what does that makes us?"

Emma looked at him in the eye and all his voices quieted, he felt like an echo was growing and memories from his wrongdoings were surfacing in his mind, memories long buried. Still, Faraday held her gaze, breathing harder and feeling exposed.

A flock of ravens cawed loudly, landing around them and picking at Emma's skirt. She moved, breaking eye contact, startled by the birds' behavior.

"I didn't mean to offend," she said a bit shaken.

Faraday sighed, sitting on the grass and looking towards the log by the water, "You have no idea what you just did, ain't it?"

Emma held the rifle close, looking towards Faraday's direction but not his eyes. She looked more than anything, tired, and Faraday could understand why. She carried the weight of her emotions in her eyes all the time, the loss of her loved one lingering as it would be for many more nights to come.

"There's no need for whatever my mother gave me here," she calmly explained, "So we just live, and until Bogue, it was fine, just… peaceful."

"That's not how it works," he said, frowning. "We attract our kind—to good or bad encounters, we don't get to choose, we bring the battle, we… we're not meant to be _normal_."

"I didn't do this!" she said firmly, holding the rifle so hard her knuckles were almost white. Joshua wasn't sure what she was saying, "I didn't attract Bogue, this is not my fault!"

"I—" Joshua sword under his breath in Gaelic, "That's not what I meant—"

Emma gritted her teeth and Joshua hissed, feeling a sharp pain between his eyes that twisted his vision. He couldn't see anything but darkness before him, he was trapped inside them, there was only a light in the distance and he knew this was not real.

"Emma!" he called, "Emma, _goddamn it_ Emma, stop this!"

He stood up, in his understanding, he was aware that he was still by the lake in Rose Creek. He knew that, but that didn't stop him from panicking when the only thing he could see was darkness around and that light over him, that light that he knew he was never going to reach.

"Let me out," he hissed, anger and panic merging inside him, the voices – so distant, so far away – tried to calm him down but it was not working, it felt too close to home, too close to those times his so-called father would focus his anger on him, "Let me out, let me out, _LET ME OUT_!"

Light blinding him when he found himself back against the grass, face against the soil. A few inches from him was Emma, who had fallen to her knees, her back towards him and her whole body shaking. Joshua slowly sat down and understood why she was in silent shock.

There was a ghost looking at them, Faraday had seen countless of them before, being a son of a Death deity. He had called this ghost in his panic, snapping Emma from her trance over him. The man had a soft smile, caring eyes, Faraday could feel it, he had been a good man, and he had died in a battle.

The ghost looked at him evenly, and nodded, fading when Faraday let go of his instinctual grip on his spirit, letting him go back to the in between.

Emma turned, her eyes angry and bight with unshed tears. "Matthew…"

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice had. He stood up and dusted his pants, "Never do that to me again."

"I—" she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, "It wasn't my intention—"

"Do it to Bogue," Faraday interrupted, "He _actually_ deserves it."

Still shaken and angry for letting himself be trapped in another psychic prison, Faraday walked away from Emma. She was aimed to fight and Faraday was not going to stop her, this was her town after all, and she had, just like Sam, had a debt to settle.

***

_Mion-éan, look for the water and the calms it brings, you need it._

In any other occasion, he might ignore the instruction, feeling too stubborn to admit when he was shaken to the core, but precisely because he was too shaken, he moved without thinking, looking for the water.

Wandering around Rose Creek, he ended up before one of the barns being used to work wood for the several structures required to their plan. Faraday was unsure exactly of what he was looking for, he just felt it had to be in that place.

"Güero?"

He turned around to see Vasquez. He had sawdust in his hair, he wasn't wearing his best and his shirt was half open. The other Scion had a cup loosely held in his hand, his attention on Faraday.

"Water," mumbled Faraday and Vasquez tilted his head not really saying anything, instead he offered him the metal cup.

"You want some?" Unsure of what to do, Faraday took the cup and just held it, probably confusing Vasquez even more. "Come on, drink that and then help me out with the barricades, we gotta get 'em ready before nightfall."

He drank the water and took off his hat, watching Vasquez work the wood methodically. Faraday helped him in whatever the Mexican indicated him, following instructions and steps, letting the chore take his thoughts away from the tremor in his chest.

If Vasquez noticed how strange Faraday was acting, he made no comment about it. Instead he kept on giving Faraday water and the other Scion kept on drinking it, too settle in following instructions to anything else.

By the time the last of the chores for that day were done, Faraday felt calmer, and also in great need to relieve himself, which made Vasquez laugh as they walked to the boardinghouse.

Once settle and with no need to burst because he had drink probably half the damn lake at this point – where did Vasquez got the water anyway? It was fresh and cold, every single time, better than anything he have had since Junction city – Faraday sighed, feeling like himself again.

After eating something, they stayed outside the bar to smoke. Faraday sitting on the steps and Vasquez leaned against the wood pillar. The Mexican offered him his lightened cigar, the smell stronger than those Faraday carried with him.

"How did you know?" Faraday asked, taking the cigar in his hand.

Vasquez shrugged, "You're not that hard to read, mijo."

"Well… thank you."

The other man smiled at him, nodding, "Are you going to be fine?"

"Yes," he said quickly, "But we might need to do something about Miss Cullen after all, I don't think she knows what she is capable of."

Vasquez took the cigar back once Faraday took a drag and hummed, looking at the it calmly, "You might want to talk with Sam."

"He's been hiding her, hasn't he?"

"As much as pushing us towards other things can hide someone," Vasquez commented, "I always find something more interesting, more _important_ , than Miss Cullen's nature, specially with Sam around, so…"

"She thinks she attracted Bogue here."

Vasquez sighed, "I don't think she has the power to do that."

"She doesn't," Faraday agreed, "She was just in Bogue's way, like many other before her."

"Güero…"

"She's lucky to be alive," he closed his eyes, "But that might change if we don't defeat Bogue."

The silence stretched for a moment, until Vasquez asked, "What are you talking about?"

It was more than the danger coming to Rose Creek, Faraday knew something more than the whispers and the blurred faith of those in Rose Creek, he was not talking as a Seer, but from experience.

"Drought," he said, looking at Vasquez in the eye, "I'm talking about Bogue's heritage, _The_ drought."

Vasquez cursed, hitting the wall behind him with his fist. Faraday stared at the ground, the faith of Rose Creek still blurred in his mind eye, wondering if he would have any sleep tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated…

Sam closed his eyes, tracing the entrances and closed exits of the map they made earlier that day, the plan to turn the main street into a trap, to close everyone who dared to come in to find their end within, he inhaled, then exhaled. Time was short, the precious seconds they had to enjoy a quiet night might as well be a blessing like no other seen before.

As Sam watched the town at night from the second floor of the tavern, he was counting, planning, over and over in his head. Routes walked, those close and those far. He couldn't afford to show how upset he was, because this was not about what he wanted, these people… their lives…

"I understand why you came here, Mr. Chisolm," the preacher said watching the street, "Her father was a good man, but perhaps… perhaps growing up like us did was a mistake… Miss Cullen is deeply loved in this town, don't get me wrong…"

"You might want to watch your words, Preacher…"

The man smiled, sadly. "I don't mean to offend… but I have seen what Miss Cullen's kin is capable of… hiding it was for her protection, but might as well be her downfall."

Sam stared at the sky, unwilling to face the kind man voicing what he had already been thinking.

"You don't know that."

The Preacher nodded, "I don't… but I have seen it before… Rose Creek is not the first place I speak the word of God, after all."

Sam turned to look at him, unwilling to flinch, "Those like me, those like Emma… there aren't many out there."

"But you are caught in a battle greater than yourselves, yet are expected to live up to the task, you cannot be prepared for something if you don't know what it is… Miss Cullen's father was a good man, a noble man… but he should have let her mother take her when she was young, at least so she could know the reason for when Bogue looked at her, he shot Matthew instead."

Sam clenched his teeth, "There's no way Bogue knew—"

"Those like yourselves found each other more often than not, you attract yourselves involuntarily. It's… part of your nature, it is not?"

"A side effect," Sam agreed, "A blessing as well as a curse, you might say."

The other man nodded, "I don't blame Miss Cullen… Bogue's actions are his alone."

"Yet you insist her husband's dead was—"

"I do not," the preacher interrupted, "Matthew… he stood against Bogue, and that made him a target… but for a second, that monster crossed eyes with Miss Cullen… and saw something he had to break but couldn't… so he did the next best thing… he took something dear to her, and tore it away."

And it worked, he lamented. Emma let herself mourn but she was not willing to completely give up, so she walked and found him, by the wicked stars always guiding Scions to encounter each other, for better or worse.

"Did—" Sam sighed, "Did her mother ever tried to reach for her?"

The preacher nodded, "I was but a child myself, learning under the previous preacher… when a woman that I can only describe as a goodness came with a younger woman as mystical as her… Miss Cullen called them mother and aunt."

Sam could picture the younger woman, the one Emma identified as aunt. He could remember her curly dark hair and kind eyes. The power she held and the justice that her mere presence inspired… after all, he used to call her aunt as well.

A spirit holding justice… fitting when matched against the elder goodness she accompanied, order shaped into a woman, older than the country itself.

"She couldn't take her, could she?"

The preacher grimaced, "Not to her home… not when her child was too young to survive the journey, it was a risk her father was not willing to take… so her mother left, and her aunt visited... it was… not enough."

"No, it couldn't be… not with her father stopping her from learning, because… because he wanted her to have a normal life."

"A kind, noble wish…"

Yet, they were not normal, so they couldn't have normalcy… Sam knew that firsthand.

Sam closed his eyes again, "But it was a foolish wish… in the end."

The preacher didn't contradict him, and his silence was heavier than his words as well as said more than them. The man was grateful for the moments like this, the peace the presence of those like Sam had brought them after so many nights of fear and hopelessness. It was not only him but everyone in Rose Creek, Sam could feel how grateful they were of having at least one night of peace.

One more night, before the possibility of dying under Bogue's hand.

"There's still a chance," Sam said, his tone firm and convincing. "It won't be easy… and some will not live to see another day after the fight."

"But it's a chance, _hope_ ," the preacher emphasized, "It's a warm light were there was none before."

Sam wasn't sure he could do justice to the hope gleaming in these people's eyes. He was not born under such thing, he was the son of exploration, of finding new paths… he was not meant to be a fighter but at the same time he was, because every Scion was a soldier of their godly progenitors, every single one of them.

Downstairs, eh heard his fellow Scions – his _friends_ — laugh in ease, enjoying a moment before a battle there knew was to come. Like him, they knew the life they were giving, its blessing, and its curses.

It was not just him in this battle, and he had been a fool to forget that, even for a moment.

"I wonder what the future brings," Sam asked out loud, looking at the stars far in the sky.

The preacher lifted his head, looking at the same sky, "I hope for peace."

"Closure," Sam whispered, "And a new day."

***

The owl formed before his eyes out of thin air, his gleaming yellow eyes burning his very soul, and Goodnight couldn't move, couldn't think, so he just knelt on the ground behind the church, his gaze fixed in the owl's, as the bird sat in the railing circling the cemetery. 

Slowly, Goodnight took his hat off, placing it on the ground, his eyes never leaving the owl's. with each heartbeat, he could feel the _geas_ Faraday lay on him pulsing between his ribs, right next to his heart, and in his mind the unspoken promise the made to himself, the shape the _geas_ took that perhaps not even Faraday knew about.

The kid was not a mind-reader, and even with his guides speaking in his ear's day at night, there was no way he could see in Goodnight's mind, not when he carried the protection his own father gave him along the rest of his heritage.

No, Faraday was more than able weave the power, but he had no idea what shape it would take in Goodnight, such was the will of that power.

"I haven't seen you since the civil war," he said to the owl, who blinked slowly. "Are you even really here?"

The owl's form shimmered and multiplied, the copy soon crooked and broke changing shapes until it was not an owl but a raven sitting besides Goodnight's own follower. The raven's eyes were bright green and it had a red jewel in its forehead, he knew this bird.

"Midnight," he broke eye contact with the owl, getting back to his feet, his gaze moving to the female figure leaning on the Church's charred wall, observing the night. Her skin was dark and so was her hair, longer and cascading in waves down her back, she smiled.

"Goodnight," she greeted, "Brother."

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, it isn't safe… Bogue—" he asked, his steps taking him towards her to fold her in his arms in a fraternal embrace, she rested her forehead against his, her eyes glowing.

"My time is short, I will go back to the other side soon, but I can't stand watching you struggle any longer, not when you can't see what's right before you," she spoke low and grieving, "Father is watching."

"He's always watching," Goodnight pointed out, "That's what he does."

Se shock her head, "You have been ignoring us," she motioned to the owl, "You are suffering alone, we are family Goodie… this is not how we do things."

"We are far from Louisiana," he closed his eyes, "How can I ever go back when my own inheritance has makes me everything I despise? Weak, a _coward_ … helpless…"

She took his face in her hands, locking his eyes with him, "We are children of _death_ ," he flinched, she didn't let go, "But death has many forms and faces, you have meet two outside our family, from the destroyed realm and from the far highlands… we cannot help what we are, but what we do about it."

He smiled, "Baroness De La Croix…"

"L'ange De La Croix," she responded in kind, "Your legend can be more than the battlefields of the civil war, my brother, just as mine is more than the widows left by it."

He closed his eyes, "I…"

"Please," she insisted, "I want to see you again," her form shimmered, along with the raven, "We're waiting for you, on the other side."

"There's a titan spawn coming to this little town," he mumbled, "It's gonnna be a bloodbath."

She took a step back, the raven flew towards her, sitting on her shoulder, her eyes were shining bright violent, and in turn so were Goodnight's. "Such are our ways, but whose blood will taint the ground, well… there's still time to change that."

The owl hooted, loud, and Goodnight's once again locked eyes with it. His mind was swirling with the moment the knot in his chest was formed, the magic bullet he fired towards Bogue's man as he ran from Rose Creek and unfolded the events that will come to pass if they didn't do something, if they didn't fight.

The magic bullet, his magic bullet was still deeply logged in McCann's back.

He turned around just as his sister was backing into a hallway that was not of this world, behind her his father gave him a smile and for the first time in a long time, Goodnight returned it.

Someday, he will go to the other side with his blood family, but right now… right now he had to take care of the bonds he was constructing along his legend.

Goodnight extended his arm and the owl hooted once, flaying to sit on it, blinking slowly, puffing once before settling in back again, satisfied.

"I've missed you too, buddy."

The owl hooted again, curling into itself as Goodnight walked around the church and the town's people reunited there, prating for a better tomorrow. It didn't take long for to encounter Billy in the darkness of the night, near the saloon where were their fellow Scions were gather.

Billy looked at the owl perched on his arm and then back at Goodnight, "The geas…"

"I have to," Goodnight said with a sober expression, "You know I have to."

Billy closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded softly, "What do you need me to do?"

Goodnight walked closer to him, and rested his forehead against Billy's, the owl jumped from Goodnight's arm to Billy's shoulder then, softly nuzzling his face against Billy's temple. Without another word, they walked closer to their fellow Scions. Sam stood on the first step while the rest where behind him, his face masked a silent question, but Goodnight only chuckled.

"It's time to party," he said and promptly collapsed.

Vasquez and Billy caught him before he hit the floor, the Mexican looked concerned but Billy's calm demeanor was a giveaway that this was not as strange as it looked. The owl's eyes shone yellow, then violet, and it took flight into the dead of the night.

Slowly and unsure, Faraday approached them as Sam opened the door for Vasquez and Billy to move Goodnight inside the saloon, laying him on a chair. Faraday watches this in silence, sometimes looking around, then back at Goodnight.

"Is he…?"

Billy is the one who answers, "He's walking on the other side, the owl… that's his familiar, I haven't seen him do that in a long time…"

"Not since the civil war," Sam adds in a leveled tone, nodding to himself. "We need to keep him safe until he wakes up, his mind in not here right now, but his body is very much mortal, we can't afford him to get hurt."

Faraday knew that was not really the issue, no. the problem was that even being here, Goodnight was going to be absent from the incoming battle, he was their best marksman and he was unable to shoot.

The odds were looking grimmer as the hours passed, once the sun was up, and the cavalry arrived, their fate will be decided. Faraday was just not sure if they could actually fight it. 

***

_Mion-éan_

Faraday looked over the black sky towards the tinkling stars, he could almost pretend they were making soft bell sounds in the night, a night that would be peaceful if not for the terror the morning was brining closer and closer and closer….

"I…" Faraday closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling, then repeating, as his hammering heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, "I don't… I don't know what to do."

_You have done so well… stay alive, just stay alive._

"You didn't!" he spat in a whisper, tears prickling his eyes, "None of you did."

_Stay alive mion-éan, stay alive, stay alive, stay alive—_

He covered his ears with his hands, not even noting the trembling that were taking over his hunched posture, the voices kept chanting for him to live, irony laced in the very word for him, since he was son of death itself and the war that was coming towards Rose Creek. This should be his prime moment, instead he was scared of what was to come, he was not even scared of Bogue, for the titan spawn probably didn't even know who he was, he failed to kill him once, but Faraday suspected the man was not even tying.

No, Bogue went after his sisters, after all, everyone knew The Morrigan only birthed daughters, and at the time they were the only ones in between his drought and the territory he was stealing, the lives he was destroying, it was not even a grand scheme of a battle, it was their home, they were supposed to defend it, and yet…

"Güero."

Vasquez's soft, borderline concerned tone made Faraday uncurl enough to give him a trembling smile, but there were tear tracks on his face and his vision was still blurry. He laughed, he was a mess, he resented Goodnight and here he was, a mess himself.

_"¿Qué pasa, güero, que te aflige?"_

"You know I don't speak Mexican," he mumbled, "Either way, fuck off."

" _No_ ," he said it with a tick accent, making fun of Faraday perhaps, "I'm pretty sure you understood that one."

And Faraday chuckled, "Si, si, mushasho."

Vasquez sat down beside him and pushed a cup of water into Faraday's face, the cowboy didn't even question it, just drank the whole thing quickly. It was fresh, calming, as whatever water Vasquez tend to give him was.

"Bogue is a menace," he said finally, extending his legs on the ground, looking at the horizon, "Once he's here, he will kill everyone, then take the life from the land into him, the soil will burn and the water will turn to dusk, everything alive with or without a heartbeat will decease and crumble, the bones will stand, and his legend will rise."

Vasquez didn't look surprised, not by his words at least.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Faraday asked, "Knowing this."

"You are the one who knows it, not me," Vasquez clarified. "Have you seen this or not?"

Seer. Right.

Faraday sighed, "It's not a vision, not, I have not seen it in my head, I have seen it before my very own eyes," he hissed. "Bogue took his drought to the lands my sisters protected, and killed them all, before my eyes." Faraday laughed them, hard and broken, "You wouldn't think that the children of a death devotion would be scare by the thought of it…"

Soon, Vasquez was before him, his hands holding his face. Lighting sparking in his eyes, "The dead of a Scion is not the same as the dead of a human," he said low, but with a lot more confidence that Faraday could muster, " _Of course_ you can be scare by it, you're not death itself _güero_ , not even if you are her son."

The other man didn't fight to get free, even when his gaze was a mixture of anger and fear, he held Vasquez's own gaze with his wild eyes, "I want that motherfucker dead," he spat, finally, finally letting the knot in his throat open, "I want him dead and forgotten, I want my sisters to rest in peace, I don't want their murder to be part of that fucking titan spawn's legend!"

He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes.

Silence starched between them, and for a moment Faraday thought it would be awkward, but it wasn't. if anything, it helped him, to finally say it, and have someone listen. Someone he could trust.

"It will be done."

Slowly, Faraday opened his eyes to look at Vasquez, whose thunderous eyes didn't quiet match his calm expression. The calm before the storm.

He chuckled, "It's not funny, you know?" Faraday said, he boiling anger going slowly back to a simmer inside him. "I'm alive because of a mistake, but… but I'll take it, I'll take that mistake and make it my chance to stop him."

Vasquez nodded, once. The gesture was firm and with the conviction Faraday himself perhaps couldn't muster. The words inside of him wanted to come on, like the flooding after a storm. A flooding he had been carrying with him because, ironically, Bogue's drought took everything away, so Joshua reached for whatever was left and secured it, but the wound kept on bleeding until he was drowning and dying of thirst at the same time.

Vaguely, he felt Vasquez's hands on his face again, anchoring him to the moment. The here and now, where he was alive, even if it was only by mistake.

"Emma," he said softly, "You know… you know Emma has to do it, right?"

"Si," he nodded as well, "She didn't bring him here, that much I know, but he did come here because of her, at some extend, it's not her fault, not really."

"We gravitate towards each other, our kind… and with her here… well… twice as much, Chisolm has been trying to protect her, he wants a piece of Bogue as well, but if you and I know there, he knows it as well, it has to be Emma."

Vasquez nodded, "Goodnight had a better chance than any of us, not only because he's a marksman, but—"

"Because he's a _legend_ already," Faraday narrowed his eyes.

"Emma might not be a legend, but she's the same as him, has the same kind of birthright, like you and I do."

Faraday chuckled, "it's absurd, the rules of our parents, gods and titans alike."

" _Ya ni llorar es bueno_ ," Vasquez said with a similar chuckle, "Let's get this job done, güero, let find their peace, and your vengeance."

"Vengeance," Faraday moved to his feet, "How would Emma pull it? Hmmm…. I should be seeking righteousness," he rolled his neck, "But I'll settle for revenge."

***

Emma observed as Billy's calm demeanor was cracked by Goodnight's unresponsiveness. The legend was breathing, if she didn't know any better, she would think him asleep. His body was present but at the same time his mind and spirit where far away, in the in between where only a few of his kind could walk, sons and daughters of not only death, but those born from The Baron himself.

"What is he looking for?" she broke the silence.

Without moving his sight from Goodnight's body, tend on the makeshift cot, Billy answered. "He put a curse on one of Bogue's men when he arrived… he's going to see through him," a heartbeat and he continued. "But taking over someone else's mind requires more than a marking curse, and that's what Goodnight is doing."

"You have seen this before."

"Yes," he told it as simple as it was, a fact. "He avoided it, not only the task but everything it had to do with his power, for a while, severing the connection he shares with his siblings in the process. But they will always welcome him, as much as he despises to admit it."

"Despises it?"

"It's complicated, and not my story to tell," Billy stood up, still looking at Goodnight. "Death is complicated, being the seed of a death devotion is complex, and any kin-of-death will tell you the same," his eyes finally meet hers, "I can tell you firsthand, as does Faraday and Goodnight, but for very different reasons," Billy's expression hardened, "But anyone alive does, don't we, Miss Cullen?"

The cellar around them felt suddenly too small for Emma, but she stood her ground.

"I don't belong to death," of that she was sure.

"You don't," he acknowledged. "You belong to Order, of Divine Law… those who sword to be neutral, but cannot help to respond if attacked."

Emma stood tall in the silence around her, her eyes on Billy's piercing, stripping stare. She felt bare, and vaguely wondered if this was part of his heritage. Law, Truth and Death.

"The scales are rigid," she told him, pain lacing her voice as her mind recalled her mother's gift in her room, "Unmoving."

Billy nodded, "I understand," As if making a choice, he moved and took Goodnight's rifle in his arm, staring at his fellow Scion, then back at Emma, he took the bullets and offered them to Emma. "You're going to need them."

"But—"

"He will wake up," Billy said, confident, reassuring, "But if you can take the shot before that happens, you do it, these are more than just bullets, and with your legacy, they will respond as they do with Goodnight, you must take the shot, and break the cycle."

She took the bullets, they were hot on her palm, like a branding, a silent promise.

***

The church was illuminated with candles, and it looked peaceful, even as the charred wood marked the place around them with the tragedy that occurred to Rose Creek. Sam looked at the cross, thinking of how to pray and to whom, wondering if it will help at all.

In the end, he sat down. He couldn't remember how to pray. The situation weighted on him, the toll of a fight that has been in the verge of starting for a long time now.

"I'll take his place."

Emma's voice echoed in the small place, even when other didn't. her spirit shimmering closer, her power shifting around them. Sam turned to see her, and for a moment he could see the little girl her aunt Marianne carried around, when visiting his mother.

"Who?"

"Goodnight," she opened her palm, showing the bullets marked with The Baron's crest, "I can take the shot."

Sam sighed, "It's not just the shot—"

"It is," she remarked, "It's a shot that goes beyond a bullet, beyond a piece of metal, it's my order against his chaos, in place of the legend I don't have."

"Emma—"

"I remember too," she closed her hand, pocketing the bullets once again, "When I was but a child, and my mother will visit, take me to my aunt, and she in place will visit her sisters… and you were there, almost the children of Columbia, her presence strong in this brave new world."

Sam closed his eyes, "You were stronger than us already, and you were just a child."

"I'm not," she refuted, "Stronger, not since my father… since my parents decided it was the best for me to be… just human," Emma exhaled, "But I'm not… I'm the daughter of a Titaness, as Bogue is the son of a Titan himself."

Titan spawns echoed cruel when thinking about her, like an insult. She was not like Bogue, nothing like Bogue.

"My husband is dead," her voice quivered and recovered in an instant, "My town is in ruins, my people are dying, and I cannot let that happened, just as I cannot let you alone to take the fall for it."

Sam walked closer, facing her, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final battle is upon us, the truth is out, and the stakes are higher than ever. With down comes Bogue, and Rose Creek becomes a battle ground for our seven scions and their allies. 
> 
> For those who noticed, yes, Marianne and Columbia are sisters, hence the reason Sam knows Emma before Rose Creek. While visiting her aunt, she met her "foster" daughter as well, as Emma's mother, being a Titaness, can't be in the mortal world for extended periods of time. 
> 
> Extra notes:
> 
> **Sam Chisolm:** Scion of Columbia the "Spirit of Exploration" and Goddess of Frontiers. (Former Scion of Athena)  
>  **Joshua Faraday:** Scion of The Morrigan, Celtic Goddess of War, Fate and Death.  
>  **Alejandro Vasquez:** Scion of Tlaloc, Aztec God of Rain and Clouds.  
>  **Goodnight Robicheaux:** Scion of Baron Samedi, Loa God of Death.  
>  **Billy Rocks:** Scion of Versak, Atlantean God of Law, Truth and Death.  
>  **Jack Horne:** Scion of Baba Yaga, The Witch of The Forest.  
>  **Red Harvest:** Scion of Coyote, Native American Trickster God... and grand-scion of Loki ;)
> 
> _Emma Cullen:_ Titan spawn of Themis (Titaness of Order).  
>  Raised by Marianne, giver of strength (Former Scion of Athena).  
>  _Bartholomew Bogue:_ Titan spawn of Danu. Titan of Drought.


End file.
